


To Be (Count to Ten)

by Castielsbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Incomplete, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielsbee/pseuds/Castielsbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having dealt with a traumatic past, Dean Winchester has strongly put off any attempts at a close relationship. He works his job as a high school teacher, perfectly content with living his life alone. That is until one day Sam drags him to a carnival, where he meets a mysterious fortune teller by the name of Castiel Novak. What happens after is all up to fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was actually a nice day. Thin white clouds brushed the sky, puffy and cheerful like the sticky cotton candy held in children's hands as they walked past, chubby fingers laced onto the guide of a parent's sturdy grip. The air was filled with a buzz of excitement as people made their way about, chatting animatedly and leading loved ones to games and rides they found to be intriguing. Sunday had rolled in, and Sammy convinced Dean to take a break from grading his multiple papers to join him at the local carnival.

It was childish, he had to admit. But even after his strongest objections and admittedly vague reasons as to why he could not go, Sam showed up at Dean's apartment anyways, coffee in hand and a smile on his face that Dean just could not make himself say no to.

So here they were, scavenging the carnival grounds, an overenthusiastic Sam Winchester leading the way.

Hell, Sam was twenty-five. He was a lawyer, for god's sake, and he looked more excited about this carnival than the children they passed by. A bag of kettle corn was gripped in Sam's large hand as he handed it to Dean every now and then, an encouraging grin on his face. Dean accepted the sweetened popcorn, mostly because he hadn't had any breakfast, and that only made Sam smile even more.

Dean breathed in the clean November air and huffed it out before he spoke.

"Is there a reason we're here, exactly?" Dean asked as they passed a balloon stand.

Sam shrugged as he eyed a roller coaster. "I dunno. I thought it'd be fun… you know, since…" he didn't finish his sentence, though. He didn't need to. Dean knew what he meant.

It was the anniversary.

Swallowing back his next remark, Dean forced himself to smile. Might as well play along. Sam was only doing this for Dean, anyway. "You wanna ride that roller coaster?" he asked as he pointed to the large green loop-de-loop one his brother had been admiring.

Sam raised an eyebrow as he smiled hesitantly at his brother. "Really? You wanna go on it?" he asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well I ain't gonna walk around here eating kettle corn all day. C'mon," he urged as he led his brother to the line. They waited in it, and Dean decided to catch up with his younger sibling, asking him how his case was going and listening as Sammy chattered relentlessly about how ridiculous the whole predicament was. Although his work sounded stressful to Dean, the older Winchester could really see how enthusiastic his little brother was about it. Sam was really intelligent, and he always had so much to say about what he believed in. It was incredibly admirable, and, honestly, Dean didn't think Sam would be as suitable for any other job more than the one he had now.

Later on in their conversation they talked about Jess, Sam's girlfriend, and Dean noticed the way Sammy got shy and dodgy about the subject- something that normally didn't happen. He took every opportunity to talk about Jess, his puppy-dog eyes going all mushy as he described how perfect she was or something she had said the other day, or anything of that sort. In the few hours they'd been around each other, that day, Sam hadn't said a word about her.

"What?" Dean asked, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips when Sam blushed. "What aren't you tellin' me?" he pestered, elbowing his brother when he tried to look away.

Sammy smiled, looking down at the floor before looking back up at his brother through his lashes. He seemed hesitant, but at the same time filled with the need to say what was on his mind. "I went ring shopping, Dean," he confessed, and Dean's jaw practically hit the floor as Sam laughed, embarrassed. "I've already picked one out," he added with a grin. So that's why he was so damn cheery.

"Dude, you're kidding me! When're you gonna give it to her?" Dean asked, a goofy smile on his face.

"I'm… just waiting for the opportunity," Sam explained.

Dean snorted. "C'mon, Sammy, it's not like she isn't gonna say yes. Jess has been practically waiting for a ring and you know it. Hell, you two have been living together for five years," Dean encouraged. "Don't chicken out."

Sam smirked. "Yeah, alright. I know, it's just… nerve racking," Sam admitted.

Dean placed a hand on his way-too-tall brother's shoulder and gave him a smile. "It'll be fine. I can promise you that," he reassured. Sam gave him a grateful look, and they continued to catch up as they made their way through the line.

After riding on a couple of roller coasters, Dean had to admit he was having fun. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to a place like this (or if he ever had), and, dammit, it actually wasn't too bad. Sam and Dean rode about four roller coasters before they took a break and grabbed some lunch from an overly priced burger stand. The fried food tasted great- since Dean normally didn't have the money to go out and buy restaurant food too often- and he savored every bite. After their meal, the two brothers made a bet to see who'd throw up their lunch first after going on a spinning wheel (of which four trash cans were located outside of for convenience), and Dean ended up winning that bet. They had rode it six times before Sam stumbled out, making his way towards the suddenly welcoming trash bins. Sam knew he would lose- Dean could stomach almost anything- and he rolled his eyes as he handed his brother a twenty dollar bill, drinking a bottle of water to rid his mouth of the bad taste of vomit.

When the sun had started to set and the Winchester siblings decided to head home, something caught Sammy's eye just as they were reaching the exit.

"Hey, Dean, look at that," he told his brother, pointing to a small purple tent with a sign on the outside that read "Palm Reading and Fortune Telling". Underneath it, the name "Castiel Novak" was written in a fancy scrawl.

Dean rolled his eyes, giving an amused snort. "You're not  _serious_ , are you?" he asked, about to laugh at the ridiculousness of it before he caught his brother's curious and very interested gaze. "Wait- you actually want to get a 'psychic reading' done by some carnival actor phony?" Dean asked, eyes wide. "You know all they do is read body language and guess,  _right?_ " he added, but his brother wouldn't have it.

The taller Winchester grabbed one of the fliers that was pinned to the tent's welcome board, an eyebrow raised. "It says here that he talks to angels," Sam read before looking at Dean with an interested expression.

"Sam, there's no such thing," Dean told his brother, crossing his arms. He was tired and the last thing he wanted to do was watch his brother waste his money on some scam.

"Well, why not try something new?" Sam asked. At his brother's stubborn stare, Sam sighed. "Just wait here," he decided, walking towards the tent. "I'll only be a minute."

"Sam-" Dean began, but his brother had already walked into the tent. Huffing out an irritated sigh, Dean leaned against the welcome board, watching the people that headed home with envy.  _Is this really necessary?_ he wondered as he pulled out his phone, checking the time. He'd have to head back home, soon. He still had fifty-something papers to grade, and if he didn't get that done his class would be furious. Not to mention, he had to be at the school early for a board meeting.

After about ten minutes of Dean watching people walk by and staring at the sky with boredom, his little brother was back outside, a big grin on his face.

"Well it's about freaking time," Dean began as he stood up from his leaning posture. "C'mon, let's-"

"You gotta go in there," Sam responded, an astounded smile still lingering on his face. "It's crazy, he's gotta be psychic or something. This guy's the real thing," Sam convinced.

"I really don't-"

"Dean, he knew Jessica's name," Sam retorted. "He knew I would be proposing to her, soon. And," he smiled again before continuing, "he said she was going to say yes. He said that it won't really go as I planned, but that it would happen Saturday. Jess and I had been planning on going out somewhere on Saturday- how could he have known that?" Sam asked.

With an eye roll, Dean responded. "Well you're not exactly difficult to read. You're basically an open book."

Sam mustered up his best bitchface, a technique he used to let Dean know he was being especially irritable. Dean earned those looks, often. "All I'm asking is for you to just give it a try. I think you'll enjoy it," Sam encouraged, slipping five dollars into Dean's hand. "There- it's paid for, too."

Dean gaped at his little brother. "You're not  _actually_  making me do this, are you?" Dean asked. But Sam's face left no room for argument. With a groan, Dean slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Fine, fine, I'm going," he replied as Sammy smirked in triumph. "This is still crazy, though," he murmured to his brother as he walked to the tent entrance.

He opened the tent flaps and sauntered inside to see a man standing at a table, organizing some trinkets that laid atop it. He turned around when Dean walked in, and gave him a smile.

"Hello," he greeted, hands clasping together. Dean observed the man with shock. He was not what Dean expected, that was for sure. The fortune teller was fairly young, probably around Dean's age, whereas Dean expected a skinny old man with a Gandalf beard. He didn't wear any goofy robes or strange items, like all the gypsies in the Arabian Hollywood movies Dean would watch as a kid. He was dressed… well, basically like a spiritual hippie. The man that Dean deemed as "Castiel Novak" (given from the name on the sign outside the tent) was wearing baggy navy drawstring pants with elastic at the ankle, and a pair of slip-on black cloth shoes. A white long sleeve shirt adorned his torso, loose-fitting with a thread pattern at the hem, on the end of the sleeves, and on the neckline. A small cut was in the middle of the collar, almost like one of those traditional Chinese shirts. Some string that Dean was pretty sure was supposed to be used to tie the cut together was hanging down from each end of the division, unused and exposing smooth skin. Castiel wore a necklace of beads, some strange woven symbol on the bottom of it.

"Uhm," Dean replied, finally averting his gaze upwards and looking at the man's face. "Hi," he responded.

Castiel smiled, again, before threading his eyebrows together and tilting his head to the side. "The last man that was in here- you're his brother, am I correct?" he asked, his voice gravelly. The intensity of it almost made Dean shiver.

The teacher licked his lips. Sam probably mentioned Dean previously. That's how this guy knew. "Yeah," Dean replied, trying not to add on something snarky.

Castiel nodded. "You two carry a similar aura- a lot of different feelings and emotions swirling around in an attempt to conceal a dark past," Castiel noted, almost as if he were reading as he spoke. His voice was contemplative, and it rose in pitch as he had spoken. It was smoother, and strangely alluring.

Dean opened his mouth to say something before he shut it. The guy was just guessing- he probably said that to everyone. Everybody liked to think that they had a rough childhood, even if they really didn't. There was no way Castiel could know about him. "Listen, buddy, I didn't come in here to cry about my past to some hippie, okay?" Dean began, annoyed. "Now can we just-" he cut himself off, gesturing to the small wooden table in the center of the tent, a couple of pillows surrounding it. "Fortune tell, or whatever," Dean mumbled, glancing at the man.

To Dean's complete and utter surprise, Castiel wasn't offended by Dean's words, but instead was smiling in an amused way- as if he had some fucking joke that only  _he_ would understand. "Of course," he answered, waving an elegant hand at the table in an offer for Dean to sit.

Fighting off a blush, Dean sighed and took a seat on a flat pillow, crossing his legs as he tried to get comfortable. Castiel sat across from Dean, legs folded underneath him. Two candles sat on the table, one on left and right, the flames dancing around in an enticing manner. The candles were simple wax lumps held in small glass bowls, which were filled with the melted remnants of the white material.

Dean looked around, observing his surroundings. It was dim, only a couple of candles here and there lighting up the inside of the tent, the flickering fire casting shadows along the cloth walls of the purple material. There were a couple of bendable wooden tables, each containing things such as paper scrawls, fake (he hoped so) skulls and bones, wooden boxes and- lord help him- a glass ball. Dean almost snorted at the sight of it, a smirk on his face. They really worked hard to get this place looking believable. The kids that visited probably got a real kick out of it. Dean couldn't even believe he was in such a childish place, and thought up of ways he could get back at Sammy, later.

"May I see your hand?" the gravelly voice asked, jolting Dean out of his observations. Castiel's hand was stretched out over the table in a gentle way, inviting Dean to place his own hand there.

Well, he'd better get it over with. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could go home and grade his papers.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Dean put his right hand in Castiel's, and the man gripped onto Dean's wrist softly, pushing up the cuff of his jacket slightly with his free hand as he sprawled out Dean's fingers. His hands were soft, Dean noted, and his skin was lightly tanned from what Dean could see in the light.

Castiel traced the lines of Dean's palm, and Dean squirmed in his seat at the touch, feeling a strange shock go through him.

After a couple of minutes of tense and awkward silence, Castiel spoke. "It seems as though you are not very interested in romance… due to a traumatic experience with a loved one, I'm assuming," Castiel murmured as he studied Dean's palm. Dean's heart raced in his chest- he was speechless. How the fuck could this guy find that out through Dean's hand? "You've dealt with many emotional crises, and that had taken quite the toll on you," Castiel noted, glancing up at Dean with honest eyes- eyes that may or may not have been filled with deep sympathy.

Dean swallowed as he looked at Castiel. The man's eyes were a thousand shades of blue, each intricate whirl of color revealing truth and honesty. Damn, Dean could drown in those eyes if he gazed at them for too long. The blue color was tinted orange from the candlelight- which highlighted the darks of his eyelashes as he looked back down at Dean's palm.

"You seem to be a realistic thinker, and you are clear and focused in your decisions," Castiel added. Dean rolled his eyes. Yeah, that's what everyone wanted to hear. Castiel's fingers lightly ran over the skin of Dean's palm again before he spoke. "You seem to be cautious towards entering a new relationship, as I've said before. You're also filled with vitality… I believe it's for your brother, yes?" Castiel asked, looking up at Dean for confirmation.

Dean felt vulnerable under Castiel's gaze. Hell, some of this was easy to guess, but there were some parts where he would just hit too close. This guy was displaying Dean's life story all from a couple of lines on his fucking palm. It was uncomfortable and pretty unsettling for a stranger to know so much about him so simply. "Uh, yeah- I guess," Dean answered.

Castiel smiled, his eyes gazing at Dean in an endearing manner. "I could tell from your brother's palm- his lines revealed much about his past to me. He looks up to you. He is trying to repay you for all you have done for him," Castiel informed the blond man. Dean blinked, not sure what to say. Before he could respond, Castiel was back to reading his palm. "In your life you have put the interests of others before your own. You have given many sacrifices for others, damaging your happiness. But I see here that you've been given support early in your life… from friends, perhaps."

Dean could feel himself grow pale. This was crazy- it was too accurate. Sam must have said something, that was the only explanation.

"May I see your other hand?" Castiel asked. Nodding slightly, Dean obliged, handing Castiel his left hand, feeling the familiar shock go through him as Castiel obtained it. "Through this hand I can see what's in store for you," Castiel informed him.

After observing Dean's palm for a moment, the fortune teller spoke. "You have much awaited happiness in store for you… it's well deserved, from what I can tell. Your only challenge will be allowing yourself this happiness," Castiel told him. "Along with this… there will be some… some more sacrifice… with- excuse me," Castiel murmured as he cleared his throat. His voice seemed to be getting shaky, his eyes widening before he turned them back to their neutral expression. "Uhm, yes. I-I must warn you. Prepare yourself for loss. Prepare yourself, but do not let this preparation shield you from the happiness that is soon to come."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as Castiel removed his hands from Dean's. After a couple of seconds, the man looked up, meeting Dean's gaze. He gave a smirk.

"It seems as though I have exceeded your expectations, mister…?"

"Ah- Winchester. Dean Winchester," Dean told him. "And you haven't exceeded all of them," Dean protested.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Dean squirmed in his seat, again, internally debating on whether or not he should just drop it. "Well, the angels thing," he began, giving Castiel a you-gotta-be-kidding-me smirk. "I mean, talking to angels… it's kinda ridiculous. That's just for show, right? To get the whole psychic effect?" Dean asked.

Castiel tipped his head to the side. "You do not believe I can speak to angels?" Castiel retorted.

"That- and also the whole thing about there  _being_ angels," Dean responded. "You… you don't honestly believe that you can communicate with 'em, right? Like, not for real?"

Castiel was silent for a moment, studying Dean. "Why don't you believe in angels, Mr. Winchester?" Castiel asked, ignoring Dean's question.

Dean gave a laugh. "Nah, buddy, I'm not gonna go around giving my life story to strangers, thanks. I just… I know they don't exist," Dean told him confidently.

Castiel's eyes squinted as he observed Dean- staring at him as if he were some fascinating specimen. "That's your problem, Dean. You have no faith," he informed him.

Dean could only blink dumbly. He quickly recovered, though, and was feeling kind of irritated, now. "Alright, sure. You can talk to angels," he gave in sarcastically. "Why don't you prove it?" he challenged.

Castiel gave a smile and a nod before he closed his eyes, adjusting his position so he was now crossing his legs. It was silent, mind all the faded chattering and noises of the carnival. He was absolutely silent, seeming to be meditating. Dean observed the man- the way his dark hair fell messily on his forehead, some tendrils pushed back. His eyes were calm, absolutely still beneath the lids. He seemed to be in some sort of an out of body experience, and when Dean was about to interrupt him, the fortune teller spoke. "The angels have informed me that your mother is alright…" Castiel murmured as his eyes opened. He looked to be in a trance, his eyes glazed over as he stared through Dean hauntingly. "Your father is alright, as well. They are together… they miss you, but they want you to know they are happy," Castiel informed him.

Dean was shocked silent. His mind was frazzled and he couldn't breath. There was no way. No, this wasn't possible.

"Jacob?... no... John… Yes, John. He's thanking you for taking care of… for taking care of Sammy," Castiel informed him. He suddenly gasped and blinked multiple times, his eyes jolted back from their glaze as he looked at Dean's face. He seemed significantly paler- shaken up before he composed himself. "Apologies… it's still difficult for me to keep connection for long periods of time," Castiel informed him.

Dean's mouth was agape. He closed it and licked his dry lips as he tried to think of what to say.  _No- don't give this guy the satisfaction,_  Dean told himself.  _It's all acting and good guessing. John is a common name, and Sammy must've told Castiel his name._ Of course. That was what happened.

Dean stood up on his feet, ignoring the way his legs wobbled slightly. "Uhm, I have to get going," Dean informed the dark-haired man as he dug into his pocket for the five dollar bill. "Here," he offered, stretching out the money in offering to the still-sitting Castiel.

He only shook his head, though. "Keep it, Mr. Winchester. I hope you found your reading to be… useful," Castiel told him with a smile as he got up onto his feet.

Dean looked into Castiel's eyes for a bit before he nodded, pocketing the money. "Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks," he mumbled before heading out of the tent, the orange glow of the sunset and clean, crisp air clearing his foggy mind.

Sam smiled when he saw his brother. "That took a while," he noted.

"Really?" Dean asked, pulling out his phone to look at the time. He had been in there for nearly fifteen minutes.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "So, was it good?" he asked, eager. "What'd he tell you?" Sam persisted as they walked to Sam's car.

Dean licked his lips before he responded. "Uh, nothin' really. Just stuff about my past or whatever. It was kinda cheesy, honestly," Dean lied.

"Hm," Sam responded, eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you'd be impressed... or at least proven wrong," he murmured with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Dean. I guess I got carried away about the whole thing," Sam apologized.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Dean replied as they climbed into Sam's old Volvo. "It wasn't too bad," he reassured.

Sam smiled at that. "Yeah, well I'm glad we did this. It's been a while since we've done anything fun together," Sam admitted.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, more like never," he agreed.

After they drove for a couple minutes, Dean remembered something.

"Here," he said as he handed Sam back his five bucks.

"You didn't pay him?" Sam asked. "Was he really that bad?"

Dean laughed. "No. He didn't want the money. 'Told me to keep it," Dean replied as Sam pocketed the bill.

"Huh, that's strange," the younger Winchester noted.

"Yeah… I thought so, too," Dean responded.

It was silent for a few minutes.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Dean sat up a bit, nervous. "You didn't happen to tell him anything about me, right?"

Sam smirked. " _No_ , Dean. I didn't."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "Did you tell him… you know, anybody's names? Did you give him your name?"

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "No, I didn't. I don't think so. I only said Jessica's name, and that was just to confirm it after he had guessed it. Why? What'd he say?"

"Nothing," Dean lied. "It was nothin'."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had been perpetually disturbed the days following his visit to the carnival.

How had that palm reader known so much? How could that even be possible? In the span of a few minutes, one man had challenged everything Dean thought he knew about the world. That fortune teller had drawn out all of Dean's beliefs and completely dismantled them before his very eyes. And in a goddamned purple fortune telling tent of all places.

Dean tried to come up with a logical explanation. He told himself that it was good guessing combined with experience and acting. And, hey, the guy could've just been reading Dean's body language. To think that it was real psychic abilities- that the guy had  _actually talked to angels_ \- was ridiculous.  _There was no such thing._

Of course. Dean was just being ridiculous.

Keeping that thought nestled comfortably in his mind, Dean went about his normal schedule and pretty soon the carnival was completely forgotten, not spoken about between either Dean or Sam.

Until Saturday evening.

Sammy called Dean while he was deciding between two extraordinary delicacies of ramen noodles or microwaveable cheese and broccoli. Dean had picked up on the first ring, juggling his food choices in his hands as he propped the cell phone between his shoulder and ear.

"Hey, what's up?" Dean asked, placing down the ramen and deciding on his microwaveable option. He popped it in the microwave, pressing the timer.

"She said yes," came Sammy's shaky voice.

Dean froze, moving his hand to grip his cell phone, now. " _What?_ "

Sam let out a laugh, and it sounded wet, like he had been crying. " _Dean_. Jess said yes. I proposed to her and she said yes," Sam explained, his voice shaky as he laughed, again.

Dean's jaw dropped and instantly whipped into a giant smile. "Holy shit- you're kidding- you  _did_   _it_?" he asked, unable to believe his ears. His smile was so wide it hurt his cheeks, but he couldn't seem to bring it down.

Dean could almost hear Sam smiling. "Yeah- just a while ago. I- I was gonna take her to the park where we met but the car broke down halfway there and when we stepped out on the road she was laughing and smiling and  _I don't know, Dean._ I just- I really wanted to do it right away and I couldn't wait any longer and when I did she was so happy and  _she said yes._ "

A goofy smile was plastered onto Dean's face as he listened to his brother's rambling. "My God, I can't believe it. This is great, man," Dean commented, hand on his forehead. "Holy shit," he repeated. He had no idea what else to say. His mind was just under too much shock. "Where's Jess?"

"She's on the phone- telling her family the news," Sam reported.

Dean felt giddy with excitement. "Dude, I'm so proud of you," Dean spoke honestly. "Little Sammy is finally a man."

Sam laughed at his brother's teasing. It was silent for a moment. "We- uh, we're planning on having the wedding in the springtime. May, I think."

Dean smiled. "It's gonna be great. I'll pick out the worst wedding present," Dean joked, earning a chuckle from his little brother. Dean's heart suddenly swelled. After all they had been through, Sam was finally settling down. He finished his school years and they had managed to pay off his student loans and Sam had a job as a freaking lawyer and  _now he was getting married_. It almost felt as though Dean were the one accomplishing all those things. "I'm happy for you, Sam."

"Thanks. Do you think you could take Saturday off next week? Join Jess and I for dinner at a restaurant? Her mom and dad are comin' down and we were gonna celebrate."

"Of course, no problem. I'll be there," Dean promised.

He could hear Sam let out a happy sigh. "Thanks, Dean. I'll, uh, I'll talk to you later. Jess is coming back," he reported.

"Bye, Sammy."

When Dean hung up the phone, he realized his dinner had been long finished, and he added a few seconds to warm it back up, again. He'd have to save up money for the restaurant next week. It would be no doubt that Sam and Jess would choose somewhere fancy. Dean smiled as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

Suddenly, he remembered the carnival. He remembered the advice that fortune teller had given Sam- and the warning how it would not go as he planned. Sam's car had broken down when he had been taking Jess to the park. A cold shiver ran through Dean's spine as his appetite suddenly vanished.

He was left to drown in doubt.

* * *

It was two months after the carnival when Dean saw him, again.

He had just been in the public library, minding his own business and grading some of his students' work. The old library by his apartment had been closed down, so Dean had to drive a freaking hour to get to a place with computers, internet, and silence. He had never been to this library before. It was bigger than the old one, and the computers were much better.

Dean couldn't afford to pay for internet every month. Those fifty plus dollars went towards his "food and gas" savings. Dean knew he should've sold the Impala, given it's incredible gas-eating tendencies, but he couldn't bring himself to part from it. It was one of the few family treasures he still had.

So Dean resorted to going to libraries in order to perform his teacherly duties. It wasn't too bad, except for the fact that libraries close really freaking early. It conflicted with his teaching schedule most days, but Dean managed. He had to manage.

Teaching at a high school didn't pay much. Hell, it barely paid enough to get Dean through rent for his apartment. But what could he say- Dean liked teaching. He enjoyed the intellect most high school students possessed, and he liked observing the way they viewed the world with so much enthusiasm for change and equality. They were all so full of ideas and spirit. Many of them reminded him of Sam. It was worth it, most days. His kids were great.

And Dean kept that in mind as he reread a sentence for a student's essay for the fifth time. The student was Eric Mongler, and this kid had been getting on Dean's last nerve, essay-wise. It had to be worded wrong or something… Dean just couldn't put his finger on it.

Sighing, Dean ran a hand down his face. He had been at this for hours, and exhausted would only weakly describe how he felt at the moment. With a drop in his shoulders, he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head and popping a few joints with a groan and a yawn. Dean had been reading too many papers- his mind was frazzled and he could hardly read another sentence.

Suppressing another yawn from surfacing, Dean glanced around the library. It was mostly empty, now. There were a couple of what Dean presumed to be college students at desks, studying frantically for tests and typing up essays for strict professors. Dean glimpsed at his wristwatch. Eight-thirty, already.

It was probably time to head home, Dean decided. He had already done all he had to do on the computer. He could finish grading when he got back to his apartment and allowed himself to enjoy a bowl of pasta or something. There was that chicken left over from the other night….

Stomach growling, Dean nodded to himself in agreement, gathering his papers before organizing them into folders and placing them in his worn out leather messenger bag. Dean got up and had passed a couple bookshelves when he saw him.

The palm reader from the carnival was rolling a cart filled with books through an aisle, stopping every few seconds to file one. Dean's eyebrow quirked in interest. Who woulda thought that he'd run into him  _here_  out of all places?

Curiosity overcame Dean's senses, and he found that he was striding towards the dark-haired man involuntarily. The palm reader- Castiel?- hadn't even noticed him, eyes trailing down the spine of a book when Dean reached him. Dean smirked slightly, leaning against a bookshelf as he inspected the man. Castiel was wearing a pair of jeans that were faded at the knees and scruffed on the bottom. They fit his legs nicely, Dean noticed appreciatively. Castiel's torso was adorned with a blue button up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, flaunting surprisingly muscular forearms. For some reason Dean had remembered him as a small guy… it probably had to do with the baggy meditation clothes he had worn. Now, in this completely different get up, Dean took the time to notice that the fortune teller was pretty damn built.

"So did the carnival give you the boot?" Dean asked, suppressing a laugh when Castiel jumped with shock, turning to face him.

Blue eyes went wide, and Dean smirked at the reaction. "Dean," the librarian spoke, his voice the same gravelly one that Dean remembered.

Dean grinned, flattered. "Do you remember all your customers?" he asked.

Castiel's lip twitched into a slight smirk. "Only the ones that call me a hippie."

He hadn't expected that response. Dean blushed, straightening up. "Oh, uh-"

Castiel smiled- a genuine smile- and placed the book he had been holding into a shelf at Dean's left. "How are you, Mr. Winchester?" Castiel asked. He looked into Dean's eyes, placing a hand on his cart as he gave the man his full attention.

Dean gave a shrug. "Good, I guess. I saw you on my way out and thought I'd say hi," Dean spoke. He felt kinda dumb, now. Dean barely knew the guy.

Yet, Castiel still memorized his name, Dean reminded himself.

Castiel seemed delighted with Dean's statement. "It's been quite a while, hasn't it? A few months, am I correct?"

Dean smiled. "Yeah, back in November."

Castiel nodded in affirmation. "Yes, that's right. How is your brother?"

A grin found its way to Dean's face at the mention of his little brother. "He's doin' great- he took your advice, if that's what you wanted to know. He and Jess are getting married in May," Dean informed, feeling excited just thinking about it. He wasn't sure why he was babbling about his brother to an almost-complete stranger, but for some reason Castiel's blue eyes made him relax, providing a calming aura. It felt as though they were already friends, even if their first encounter hadn't been the most pleasant.

Castiel smiled. "I am glad," he responded genuinely.

"Yeah… well, hey, I never did thank you before," Dean noted. "Although I'd still like to know how you found out all that crap," he said with a smirk.

Castiel laughed, and the sound startled Dean. "Are you admitting that I was right, then?" he challenged with a gleam in his eyes.

Dean shrugged indifferently. "More or less," he mumbled.

Castiel seemed self-satisfied with Dean's reaction. "Let us just call it pure talent," Castiel answered his previous statement. "And there is no need to thank me," he added.

Suddenly motivated, Dean smiled. "Well, how about I pay you back, then?" Dean suggested, nervousness cranking up the beat of his heart. When was the last time he had done something like this? One night stands were a normal thing for Dean, but this was the first time in a while that he had actually been genuinely interested in someone. "There's a cafe nearby here. Would you wanna go, tonight?"

Castiel's eyebrows went up with shock, but he seemed pleased enough. He lifted up his wrist to glance at his watch. "I close up at nine. Would you mind waiting until then?" He asked, his blue eyes looking hopeful although he neutralized his facial expression.

Dean smiled. "No problem," he assured. "I'll meet you at the doors?"

With a smile playing at his lips, Castiel nodded. "See you in a bit."

* * *

What was Dean doing?

That thought ran through his head at hyper-speed as he paced around the front doors of the library. Dean Winchester didn't go on  _dates_. He normally went to bars and hooked up with the first person to approach him. And, even then, it's been a while since he's done  _that_. Well, a teacher's schedule didn't allow him much flexibility in his social life.

At least, that was the excuse he used whenever Sammy told him he needed to go out and meet someone.

Dean just wasn't ready for that… was he?

What had even driven Dean to ask Castiel out? He barely knew a thing about him. Why was he so interested in him? Hell, was a five minute conversation in between bookshelves even enough to ask someone on a date?

This was ridiculous. Dean should just go home. He should leave and then find a new library to go to so that he wouldn't ever run into Castiel again.

Just as Dean was on the brink of chickening out, the doors to the library opened and Castiel was outside, locking the doors behind him. When he turned, he looked almost startled at the fact that Dean was waiting for him. Then a smile instantly washed away his stunned features. "Hello, Dean," he spoke.

Dean returned the smile, although his was probably a hell of a lot more nervous. "Hey. You ready to go?"

Castiel nodded, pocketing his keys. "Ready," he confirmed. The air was cold and Castiel had added a tan trench coat to his getup. It should've looked completely dorky, but Dean found it endearing, and even the slightest bit attractive.

"Cool coat," he complimented. Castiel looked down at it as if he forgot of its presence, despite the absolute cold around them.

"No, actually, it's quite warm," he retaliated with a smug smile when Dean laughed.

"Smartass," he murmured, earning a bigger smile from Castiel. "I'm driving, by the way," Dean spoke, jingling his keys. Castiel nodded again.

"That would be wise, seeing as I do not own a car," he answered.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "You take a bus here?" he asked as they made their way to the car where it was safely tucked away in the parking lot.

Castiel's gave a nod. "I take the bus mostly. Sometimes the train. I have transport cards," he answered. "It ends up being cheaper than the annual costs of a car," he added with a shrug.

Dean hummed in agreement. Chicago public transport options were everywhere. It was actually quite uncommon for people to even own cars, here. "Yeah, that's true. 'Guess I just couldn't part with mine," Dean admitted.

When they reached the Impala, Castiel's eyes widened.

"I see why," he spoke, almost awed. "A '67 Impala," he noted, smiling when Dean paused in shock. "It's beautiful," he added, allowing his fingers to brush against the smooth frame.

Dean let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head with disbelief. "Man, you know your cars. I wouldn't have guessed," he spoke as he unlocked the door, gesturing for Castiel to get in. When they were both seated comfortably, Dean buckled up and started the engine, unable to help the smile on his face when the car purred smoothly, as if to show off to the new guest.

"My older brother, Lucifer, he liked cars. It rubbed off on me, I suppose," Castiel informed.

"Your older brother's name is Lucifer?" Dean couldn't help but ask, turning on the heaters to banish the car of the frigid air.

Castiel chuckled. "He prefers 'Luke'," he corrected. Dean laughed.

"Yeah, I could imagine," he agreed, making his way out the parking lot and driving to the cafe.

The blue-eyed man hummed in acknowledgement, looking out the window of the car. Dean glanced over at the palm reader, a smile finding its way to his lips. Castiel looked really good seated in the Impala. He seemed almost excited as he watched the buildings pass by. The drive was quiet and short, but not awkward in the least. Dean already felt comfortable, all nervousness he had felt prior had vanished, now. In only a few minutes, Dean was pulling in to park near the cafe he had seen on his drive to the library. It was welcoming and incredibly cozy-looking, judging from the yellowed lights that lit the interior.

"This is the one," Dean spoke, breaking the silence as he gestured out Castiel's window. Castiel smiled.

"I've always passed by here," he recalled as the car's engine died down and stilled."But I never thought to visit."

"Then I guess it'll be a first for both of us," Dean commented, climbing out the Impala. Castiel shortly followed.

In a moment they had both gotten a table and made their orders. Castiel hung his coat on the back of his chair, and Dean did the same, noticing the way the fortune teller's forearms rippled slightly with muscle as they moved. He tore his gaze away, trying to distract himself.

The cafe was nice- all the tables were a homely, brown shade of mahogany, topped with soft table mats and silverware that was worn but still clean and usable. The air smelled like cinnamon- probably from the bakery on the other side of the cafe. The smell brought back memories Dean couldn't quite grasp, yet it calmed him and instantly made him feel safe. A display of various desserts were assorted for admiration, and at the moment a little girl was kneeling in front of the glass case the sweets were stored in, gazing at a particularly tempting white-icing cake. She tugged on her brother's arm, leaning in and probably whispering of ways they could convince their mother to get them a slice. There was a fireplace lit near the entrance, plush couches surrounding it and a red-brown thread carpet sitting underneath it all. It was family owned, Dean had noticed after some observations. That much was obvious. The man and woman behind the counter would exchange smiles every now and then- a hand lingering on the other's arm- a silver ring glinting off the golden light of the candles and lamps.

It reminded him of Ellen, suddenly, and he felt the need to be back at Lawrence, drinking beer with Jo as she kicked his ass in billiards. Dean missed his friends terribly, and he wondered how they were doing. He'd need to call them soon….

"You're smiling," Castiel noted, drawing Dean back to the present. Dean blinked, focusing on Castiel's happy eyes and trying to gather back where he was and why he was here.

Dean quickly suppressed his smile, giving Castiel an apologetic look. "Just remembering something," he explained, taking a sip from a glass of water a waitress had given him.

Castiel hummed, mimicking Dean's actions as he brought his own glass to his lips- his very kissable lips, Dean might add. "You miss them," Castiel noted after he placed his drink down, the tip of his tongue darting out to catch water droplets that lingered on his pink lips.

Dean blinked, astonished. "What?"

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "Your friends. Your home. You miss it," he clarified.

Dean raised an eyebrow before smirking and letting out a laugh as he shook his head. "You gotta tell me how you do that," he murmured, swirling his water in the glass he held in his hand, the ice clinking against the edges as the liquid sloshed up the sides.

Castiel smiled. "A magician never reveals his secrets," he responded simply.

Dean rolled his eyes, although his smile remained. "Alright, well tell me this, Mr. Magician," Dean spoke as he leaned closer. "Are all fortune tellers part time librarians?"

Castiel chuckled, leaning forward as well as he placed his arms on the table, folding them in front of him. "Believe it or not, Mr. Winchester, but working at a carnival two times a month does not provide one a suitable salary."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So you chose to be a librarian?"

Castiel shrugged. "I enjoy it. The library is quiet and simple, and I get paid a decent amount. I am also very fond of reading, so I suppose that's what drew me towards the job."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he leaned back in his chair. "I don't mean to pry, Cas, but you talk a lot like a doctor or professor. You seem like you should be off  _writing_  books rather than filing them in shelves," Dean admitted. He was intrigued and a little annoyed. Why would Castiel take such a simple job? It was obvious he had gotten a great education- or that he'd at least come from an intelligent family. Why was he putting all that intellect into such a middle-class job?

Castiel didn't seem to take offense to Dean's nosiness. He smiled gently. "And where do you work, Mr. Winchester?" he asked, genuinely curious as he turned the conversation around. Dean was taken aback, but he answered nonetheless.

"At a high school. I teach a senior English class," Dean admitted with a blush. High school teachers weren't taken very seriously, and whenever he'd tell someone where he'd work they'd tend to stray topics onto how little the job pays or to asking Dean "how can you stand it?".

Castiel wasn't judgmental, though. He took the information in with a nod. "And why do you work as a teacher?"

Dean went back to his thoughts earlier in the library. He remembered how he had stayed in there for hours, grading paper upon paper and working his ass off, stomach rumbling and muscles stiffening. He remembered how earlier he had pulled out the map in the Impala and searched for the next closest library when he had found out the one near his apartment had closed. He remembered finding out with a twist in his gut that the library was an hour away, and that he'd have to pay for gas even when he could barely afford it. But he did it all, anyways. He did it because he cared about his job. He did it because he cared about his students. He did it because he wanted them to have the privileged school life that he had never been granted, himself.

"Because I like it," Dean spoke, as if that were obvious. Castiel's smile shone even brighter.

"As I like my job at the library?" he asked. Dean suddenly realized the point he was trying to make. "You see, Dean, it doesn't matter the pay we receive or the opinions of others. What matters is that when you go to bed at night, you are truly happy with the way things are and with what you are doing."

Dean blushed, feeling dumb for having asked questions about Castiel's profession, now. "I guess that makes sense," he agreed.

At that moment, their food arrived. Castiel had ordered a vegetable soup and a glass of cranberry juice, and Dean had gone for the bacon and cheese panini, deciding to spoil himself since the food here was cheap enough.

Dean bit into the crispy bread of his sandwich, the cheeses oozing into his mouth. He resisted the urge to let out a satisfied moan as the hunger in his belly slowly diminished. It had been a while since he'd gone out to eat- since his dinner with Sammy and Jess, Dean suddenly remembered. And that had been a total bust. The restaurant's food was over the top fancy, and Dean had ended up not eating much at all, although he still offered to pay more than his fair share and celebrated happily.

"So why do you work at the carnival if it's only twice a month?" Dean asked. "Unless it's the same reason you work in the library," he added.

Castiel finished his spoonful of soup before he responded. "I suppose it's a hobby of mine," Castiel spoke with a shrug. "I do it to unwind. It's rather fun."

Dean smiled at that. "Well, you pull off a good show," he complimented. "Pretty believable."

A smile tugged at the corner of Castiel's lips. He seemed shocked. "You think so?"

Dean shrugged, avoiding Castiel's eyes, now. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, you had me pretty spooked. Especially when Sammy called about proposing. Y'told him it wouldn't go how he thought it would. And Sam had told me that on the way to where he and Jess were going, his car had broken down and he proposed to her right there in the middle of the road," Dean recalled with a smile. "I think you may have put me through a breakdown, Cas," Dean admitted with a laugh. "I was goin' through a existential crisis for days after."

Castiel smiled sheepishly. "I apologize. I suppose I was trying to show off a bit."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Now it was Castiel's turn to avoid Dean's eyes. He looked down at his bowl, sifting his spoon through the thick mix of peas and potatoes and other assorted vegetables. "You were a challenge- different than all the others that would come in for readings. Now that I look back at it, I believe I wanted to impress you- perhaps even change your mind."

Dean was shocked, and he felt flattered once more. "Huh," he breathed out, straightening up. "Well, it worked."

Castiel looked up at that. A smile suddenly played at his lips. "Really?"

Dean smiled back. "Really."

They ate in a content silence (after gazing at each other for an ungodly amount of time and breaking eye contact awkwardly). Dean was actually having a really good time. Honestly, he was shocked. He didn't make many friends, besides Charlie- the teacher whose room is next to his. Even then, they didn't hang out excessively. They mostly chatted during work and went out for a few beers every now and then. Dean always put up a barrier when people would get too close. He couldn't help it most of the time- it just happened. Sam reprimanded him for it constantly, but it was just who Dean was.

He looked up, gazing at Castiel as the blue-eyed man ate from his dinner. He found that he wouldn't really mind trying to get close to him. Castiel was different. He didn't intimidate Dean- he didn't judge him or make him feel uncomfortable. Castiel was accepting, he wasn't easily insulted and he understood the way Dean thought. The strangest thing was… he also  _changed_ the way Dean thought. That was kind of a tough thing to do, and Castiel had already started to manage it.

And, hell, this was the most Dean had laughed in one evening.

When the waitress came back with the bill, Castiel reached for his wallet.

"Woah- wait, this one's on me," Dean insisted, reaching out a hand to stop him as he grabbed the checkbook. Castiel seemed disgruntled.

"I'd like to pay, Dean," Castiel replied. The waitress gave the two a smile.

"I'll leave you two to sort this out," she spoke before walking away. Castiel seemed to blush at her statement.

Dean leaned forward, ignoring her comment. "I invited you out here, tonight. I'm paying, okay?" he spoke, trying not to insult Castiel. He just really wanted to cover this one- it was important to him, in a way. Money was always a sensitive topic with Dean, and he hated feeling as though he couldn't manage things like this. "Remember how I said I was paying you back? For the palm reading?" Dean added with a quirked eyebrow. Castiel sank down in his seat at the statement.

"This is well over five dollars," Castiel murmured, but he let Dean continue.

Dean gave a smile, eyes connecting with Castiel's. "I can manage," he joked.

The fortune teller seemed to almost pout, an expression that was quite amusing given his sophisticated air. "Then I will be paying for next time," he said with a sly smirk when Dean's eyes widened with shock. After a second, Dean smiled back, nodding.

"Alright, fine. You can pay next time," he agreed, placing a twenty in the checkbook. He got the feeling that he wasn't quite sure what he just signed himself up for.

Once everything was paid for, Dean and Castiel retreated to the Impala. "So where do you live?" Dean asked as he started up the engine, glancing over at Castiel in the passenger seat and getting a strange want for this to be a regular thing.

It wasn't his fault that Castiel just looked so good in his car. Hell, Dean had been hoping he'd discover something unappealing about Castiel during their date. But, if anything, he only found himself more and more attracted to the strange man.

Castiel led Dean through the streets, giving directions as they drove. "Take this right," he spoke after a few minutes of driving. Dean obliged.

"Y'know, it's kind of crazy that I bumped into you," Dean spoke as they made a turn. "The only reason I visited that library was because the one near my apartment closed down," Dean explained.

Castiel smiled at his side. His arm brushed Dean's where it rested between them. "It must be fate," he spoke, and Dean glanced at him, raising an eyebrow before he chuckled.

"Yeah, sure."

It turned out Cas didn't live too far from Dean- about thirty minutes away, actually. Castiel was pretty close to Dean's school, and the blond couldn't help but wonder how many times he had passed by these apartments without a second thought. The exterior was brick- fancy and top notch, nothing like the shabby area Dean lived in. He suddenly felt self conscious. These were the apartments that Dean had looked at when he first moved here- the ones he really wanted to live in until he saw the price.

How the hell did Cas afford this?

Dean felt slight annoyance. Surely Castiel was making about the same amount that Dean was? Maybe he had a roommate… maybe he was living with someone… wait, was Cas  _married?_  Jesus, he couldn't even believe that thought hadn't crossed him, before.

Dean surreptitiously stole a glance at Castiel's left hand. No ring. But that didn't mean he didn't have somebody… perhaps he was living with that somebody.

Dean had to ask. He couldn't help it. "So," he began as he parked smoothly along the curb at the entrance. "You live here alone?" he asked, looking over at Castiel's profile.

Castiel turned to face him, an amused look on his face. "Yes… but I assure you that the neighbors to not take kindly to loud and sensual bed actions," Castiel spoke.

Dean suddenly flushed bright red. He didn't even realize how his question had come out. "Oh- uh, no- that's not what I-"

Castiel suddenly laughed- a loud laugh that sent his head tipping back and made Dean's heart do a strange flip. Once he had calmed his laughter, the fortune teller spoke. "I'm only teasing," Castiel assured, giving Dean a smile that sent crows feet branching from the corners of blue eyes. Another heart flip.

"Oh," Dean uttered, still embarrassed. He looked at the floor of the car, toying with the car keys in his hand. But he couldn't help feeling a little better at Castiel's statement.

_He lived alone._

"Thank you for tonight, Dean," Castiel spoke, willing the blond to meet his eyes again. Castiel smiled. "I had a nice time."

Dean found that he was smiling back involuntarily. "Yeah, so did I."

Castiel searched Dean's eyes for a moment before giving another smaller smile and placing his fingers on the handle, pulling it open-

"Hey, I'll walk you to the door?" Dean suggested, shying under Castiel's sudden gaze as the man started with shock, looking over at Dean.

The smile was more genuine, now. "That would be nice."

It was cold outside, Dean was sure of it. But he couldn't help but feel warm as he walked Castiel to the entrance of his apartment, their shoulders bumping although there was more than enough room for them to walk with a normal distance between them.

When they reached the door, Dean felt inspired.

"So… about that "next time"?" Dean spoke, facing Castiel, now. The man smiled.

"I would enjoy a "next time"," Castiel admitted, looking into Dean's eyes.

Another heart flip.

Then a thought crossed his mind.

"Say… Cas, back at the carnival," Dean began, looking down and away before looking back at Castiel, a sheepish smile on his face. Castiel tilted his head, urging Dean to continue. "The whole palm reading thing," Dean rushed out. "How-"

"Give me your hand," Castiel spoke with a smile, reaching out one of his own. Dean's eyebrows furrowed, confusion running through his thoughts. But he obliged, giving his right hand to Castiel, where the fortune teller proceeded to hold onto it with his left, bringing up his right hand to hover over the lines of Dean's palm.

"Typically, the right hand of men speaks of the things they've learned and become throughout their life. I've seen different, before, but for you the things you've learned is in your right. Also, your right hand is your dominant one, so it will tell me your past. The future, and traits you were born with, is in your left," Castiel explained, looking up at Dean to make sure he was listening. Dean had his full attention on Castiel, green eyes widened with interest. With a satisfied smile, Castiel continued. "The lines of palms differ from person to person. From the way the line curves and marks, I can determine certain personality aspects and relate them to your lifeline," Castiel spoke, his voice low and gravelly. Dean allowed himself to shiver, noticing how Castiel's grip went softer at the action. His fingers hovered over Dean's palm, not quite touching as he traced over certain areas. Now Castiel allowed his fingers to touch Dean's skin, and it sent tingling sensations burning throughout the blond man. He struggled to pay attention to Castiel's words, now. "This one," he began, tracing along the horizontal line right below Dean's fingers, "is your heart line. You see the way you have smaller lines intersecting vertically into the line? This means that you've been emotionally traumatized, which lead me to presume that you'd be hesitant when it comes to emotional ties- mostly romantic ones," Castiel murmured, looking up at Dean. Dean didn't look back at him, though, too intrigued with what the man was saying.

So Castiel continued.

"This line is your head line," he spoke, tracing the one in the middle of Dean's palm- the one that branched off from the space between his thumb and index finger. "Yours is connected to your life line- the one below it- and it is straight and deep, which tells me that you're a realistic thinker and that you prefer clear and focused approaches at situations," Castiel explained, tracing along the thick line of Dean's palm. "You see these little circles? The ones in the line? These are donuts, and normally if they're in a line it symbolizes trauma."

Dean gulped, suddenly wanting to pull away. He wanted to push Castiel back and tell him he didn't want to do this, anymore. Defensive barriers urged to be put up, but he pressed them down, instead tuning in on the feel of Castiel's fingers on his skin.

Castiel wouldn't ask. He wasn't like that,  _he wouldn't ask._

And Dean was right.

"This line, as I said before, is your life line," Castiel instructed, tracing the line below the head line, the one that curved along the muscle of Dean's thumb. "It's straight and strays towards the edge of your palm, and that means that you're cautious with entering relationships, just as your heart line hinted," Castiel looked up at that statement, and the two men met eyes for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and went back to tracing Dean's palm. "There's so much I can see just from the way your hand is made to be," Castiel spoke, tracing along Dean's hand freely, now. "To know… to understand… it only requires one to look," Castiel's voice dropped into a hushed tone as he started to pull his hand away.

Dean took grip of it, urging Castiel to look up at him. Dark eyelashes lifted, eyes tilting up to meet Dean's unvoiced request. The blue eyes shone in the dim lights of a faraway street lamp, looking almost eerie as they connected with Dean's gaze. He felt overwhelmed, looking into those haunting orbs of cobalt blue. So Dean changed his point of view somewhere lower, drifting off to lips that suddenly parted... inviting- hesitant.

Dean tilted his head, lips in the perfect position… if he were to move closer, it would be sealed. Warm breaths puffed out of parted lips, mingling and sucked in eagerly as the two men stood there with anticipation… waiting. Dean's hand drifted, planting onto Castiel's side and pulling him in by the hip. His thumb rubbed softly into Castiel's hip, earning a closer lean from the man. Looking into Castiel's eyes, Dean searched for confirmation. He was given the view of lidded eyes that gazed downwards, flushed cheeks that were prominent underneath dark stubble that dotted smooth skin.

Lips slotted into one another, fitting perfectly- easily… dancing at a pace that could only be lead by long time lovers. It was a dance that two men- two men who barely knew one another- accomplished in the manner of one kiss.

Two kisses.

Three, four.

Lips were slick with spit, hot and wet and softened now- susceptible to the prickle of stubble as they moved their faces, tilting to find ways to be closer. Dean's hands hooked onto the belt loops of Castiel's jeans, tugging him closer, his thumbs rubbing into Castiel's thighs and earning a content hum. Castiel's fingers fluttered at the nape of Dean's neck before grasping onto the collar of his jacket, fingers slipping underneath to tease at the skin of Dean's neck.

Castiel let out the tiniest of noises- noises Dean probably wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been echoed into his mouth, sinking into the flesh of his tongue and vibrating in the back of his throat. Dean's heart pounded, and it jumped with every noise Castiel made. He could feel heat gathering in the pit of his belly, travelling down lower, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Teeth were added in- biting on lips and possessing, wanting,  _demanding_.

A thud reverberated through Castiel's chest, travelling into Dean's as he roughly slammed the dark-haired man into the nearest wall, pressing- kissing flesh like wild animals. If Castiel was in pain, he didn't let it show. Only groans and moans of pleasure made themselves known, escaping through full lips that were swollen and bitten into, teeth imprints proving that he was claimed by Dean and  _only Dean._

Dean latched onto Castiel's throat, kissing and sucking- making his way up to Castiel's jaw and ignoring the way dark stubble cut into his vulnerable lips. Castiel suddenly whimpered- a sound so wanton and so  _foreign_ from a man so composed. It made something within Dean kick.

The teacher smiled into the kisses he planted onto Castiel's spittle dampened skin, licking now as he tried to drive more of those noises out of the fortune teller. With the next whimper that met his ears, Dean felt a burst of hot flames engulf the insides of his belly, the heat travelling throughout him and igniting him in a way that he could never remember feeling, before.

Hands shoved at Castiel's trench coat, sliding it partially off his shoulders as he fumbled around, eventually gripping back onto Castiel's hips and pulling him close- body to warm,  _firm_  body. The librarian slid in nicely to the shape of Dean's form, his own (admittedly more muscular) frame cradling Dean's in a way that felt so  _right_. Castiel let out a whine at the pressure, and Dean softened his kissing pace on Castiel's jaw, lightening it to a teasing motion. He moved his lips up to kiss under Castiel's ear, teeth nibbling softly on the lobe and driving out a more insistent whine from the fortune teller.

Reciprocating Castiel's whine, Dean moaned as he moved his lips back up, pressing them into Castiel's in a mess of tongue and sucks and licks. Castiel kept up, taming their kisses before he parted their lips.

Panting. "I," kiss. "I'm normally not," kiss, "like this on first dates," Castiel grumbled before leaning forward, reaching for another kiss. Dean looked up into his lust-filled orbs, gazing at Castiel for a few moments before laughing and granting him his lips.

When they parted again, Dean spoke. "So, what, you didn't see this in the future?" he murmured before kissing at Castiel's neck, feeling the vibrations of his low chuckle.

"No, I most certainly did not," he replied a bit breathlessly, hand flying up to land on the back of Dean's neck where he gripped as Dean sucked. " _Dean_ ," he moaned.

"When can I see you, again?" Dean asked, words all but muffled against Castiel's skin before he moved up to kiss him, again.

When they parted lips, Castiel spoke. "Saturday," he murmured, kissing Dean, again.

"Mmm. What day's today?" Dean asked suddenly, pulling away. He was going to look up and meet Castiel's eyes, but he found himself too distracted by kiss-slick lips, and then he was at it again.

Castiel smiled when their kiss ended. "It's Tuesday."

Dean growled with dissatisfaction, pressing nearer as he tightened his hold on Castiel's hips. "That's too long," he complained.

A laugh. Then his low, hoarse voice. "Friday, then."

Dean smiled at that. "And the library in between," he spoke, going down to kiss at Castiel's neck, giving his lips a break from the stubble. A guttural sound emitted itself from the back of Castiel's throat as Dean's lips worked him.

"Yes," he hissed, one hand gripping at Dean's hair while another traveled down his back. Dean shivered. "But I assure you, we will not be able to do this in the library," the quivery voice spoke.

Dean laughed, moving his lips to the collarbone that peeked from beneath blue material. "At least not when others are looking," he murmured.

Castiel chuckled, a sound that had Dean smiling against him. "You are going to get me fired, Mr. Winchester."

Dean moved back up, kissing Castiel long and gently, now. When he pulled away, he gave Castiel a sly smirk. "Only if we get caught," he spoke before giving him another kiss. Castiel smiled into it.

As their kisses settled, Dean began to pull away reluctantly. "I'll see you soon," he promised, giving Castiel one final kiss. Castiel nodded, out of breath as they untangled themselves from one another, Castiel easing himself off the wall. Dean blushed at that. "Sorry about… yeah," he spoke, gesturing to the wall.

A teasing smile curled Castiel's lips. "Do not apologize," he assured. He looked so incredibly alluring with his mussed up hair and his intense blue eyes and his sinfully rustled coat (Dean didn't even think coats could look attractive). It all needed to be illegal, Dean thought to himself.

Another flip.

Dean found himself raising a surprised eyebrow at the flirtation, although he probably should have expected it. "Uh, I-"

Castiel chuckled. "Have a good night, Dean," he spoke before making his way to the door. He paused at it, turning to give Dean a smile.

"You too," Dean replied, returning the smile before turning around to walk back to the car. Dean took some deep breaths to clear his mind as he tried to urge his wobbly legs to support him. He heard the building door close, and a smile made its way to his face despite himself.

What exactly had happened, tonight?

Dean was going to go on another date… he was actually serious about this. When was the last time he romantically saw somebody more than once? It had been since…

It had been a while.

And Dean found that he didn't mind. He wanted to see Cas, again. And  _soon._

Jesus, it was like some high school chick flick.

Dean turned around to look at Cas's apartment one more time before he climbed into the Impala and drove home, blasting Led Zeppelin throughout the drive and singing along. He was in a pretty damn good mood, and the fact that his lips were still tingling with remnants of what had just happened only heightened his good spirits.

Dean chuckled as he wondered what Sammy would say. Probably,  _I told you you'd be impressed_ , or something dumb along those lines. There was no way Dean would be able to live it down...

Dean checked the time. Ten thirty… if he got home quick, he could finish grading the last of his papers.

So, advancing the car, Dean sped home.

"Home sweet home," Dean murmured to himself once he caught sight of the shabby building, giving a sigh as he parked. It was a seven story building, and Dean lived on the top floor. The outside was a concrete slab of material stained by weather and age. Overall, the neighborhood wasn't too safe of a place, especially at night. Sam always expressed his worries with Dean living there, but he knew the neighbors, and they were all kind enough.

Despite the low cost and Dean's stubbornness, though, he found that he really couldn't imagine himself living there the rest of his life. He hoped that, later on in his life, he could find somewhere to really call home. It seemed like the closest thing he had to home, at the moment, was the Impala.

He'd need to find a better place to live, one day….

Jingling his keys in his hand, Dean made his way to the apartment building-

But he paused when an object pressed at his back.

"Give me your wallet!" A voice demanded, shaking and sounding shockingly young.

Adrenaline immediately coursed through Dean's veins, heart pumping at a ridiculous rate as he put his hands up. "Easy there, buddy," Dean breathed out, turning around slowly as the knife made him do so, prodding him to face the person who held it. Her turned around to face what appeared to be a teenage kid- one that couldn't be older than sixteen. Dean's eyebrows furrowed until they looked down to meet a knife that was way too close for comfort. It shook slightly in the kid's grip, and the scrawny guy put another hand on it to steady himself.

"I said give me your wallet!" He demanded, pressing closer for emphasis. The knife glinted off a streetlamp, proving just how oh-so-real it was. Dean moved his gaze away from it. He could easily disarm the teen and take the knife, but he knew the look in his eyes- he was desperate. He needed money, and he needed it  _now._ The kid could be talked out of this- Dean didn't need to frighten him.

"Alright, I need you to calm down," Dean soothed, keeping his voice steady and trying not to avert his gaze to the weapon that was pointed straight at him. "Let me help you, okay?" Dean asked, moving his hand down to slowly put away his keys in his pocket, his hand brushing at the edge of his wallet. The teen's eyes widened, and he pressed the knife further.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself," the kid spoke, voice shaking as he began to pant, now. His eyes were a crazy blue, brightly red-rimmed. "Just give me your goddamned wallet!"

Dean nodded. "Okay, okay, relax. I'm getting it, see?" He proved as he pulled out his leather material, trying to distract the teen. When his eyes flicked to Dean's hand, Dean tried to disarm him with his other, intending to talk the kid through this.

He was too slow, and the weapon was too close.

White hot pain seared through him, and Dean's eyes widened as his jaw dropped, head lowering to take in the sight of a knife handle protruding from his stomach. Pale hands quickly pulled the object out after twisting the blade slightly, hands shaking even more than before. Dean looked up to see shock just as great as Dean's cover the teen's face. He met Dean's eyes, his own wide and terrified. His knife was blood-soaked. Dean could feel his blood slowly trickle into a heavy flow out of the wound.

He could barely detect the brush of leather in his hand as the wallet was taken away from him, followed by rushed footsteps and a few voices yelling.

He dropped to his knees, hands shaking at his sides uselessly.

There was a sharp pain- hot liquid dripped past his stomach, trickling down his left leg. He heard footsteps make their way towards him, but Dean couldn't bring himself to look. He just gazed at the gash in his stomach, bathed in a state of adrenaline-fueled shock. Suddenly, hands grasped onto Dean's shoulders, easing him down- head resting on a cloth material as a voice spoke to him, ordering him to do things that he couldn't even listen to- things he couldn't even hear. Hands laid themselves around the source of the pain- pressing, examining. Material was added onto Dean's wound, pressing onto it in a harsh pressure and soaking up the blood that managed to escape.

"Jim! Call 911! He's been stabbed!"

Dean's insides suddenly burned- spreading throughout his whole body. The pain was unbelievable- it was too much for Dean to handle.

So his mind eased him into blackness, ridding him of the pain and confusing noises- granting him calm and sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Infection… spreading."

_Badump… badump…._

"Excessive… internal bleeding."

Light engulfed his vision… so many faces hovering above him-

Where was he? What was that god-awful pain?

"Clear the ER… notify Doctor Morgan."

Dean stirred, coughing and instantly regretting it when the pain doubled. He lifted his face, trying to look for what was causing his discomfort.

Blood. A lot of blood. What from? What happened?

A mask was placed over Dean's face, and he fought against it-thrashing about much to the displeasure of his injured body and the strangers that grasped onto him. He yelled out gibberish, swatting at hands that came near him in his attempt to remove the mask. His body resisted until his vision became blurry, dizziness overcoming him as everything faded….

* * *

When Dean woke up, he suppressed a groan. He was sore all over, and if felt like his insides had been ripped out and put back in the wrong places. Dean tried taking a deep breath into his neglected lungs, hissing at the burning in his stomach.

"Dean?" a voice suddenly called out.

Dean turned his head to the side to see Sammy sitting next to him, a look of relief on his face. He seemed like he had been crying. The younger Winchester's eyes were glassy- red rimmed from lack of sleep, accentuated by a messy mane of mouse-brown hair.

"Hey, Bitch," Dean greeted, voice gravelly. It felt like he was swallowing sand paper, and he tried his best not to let his discomfort show. There were all sorts of tubes pinned into his arms, and Dean was more than sure one of them had blood.

Sam let out a laugh as his whole body seemed to collapse with relief. An absent-minded hand ran through his hair as Sam looked off to the side before looking back at his brother. "You're fucking crazy, you know that, Jerk?"

Dean smiled, lips cracking painfully. He licked at his lips, although his tongue was too dry to really help much. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Sammy," he growled out, biting back a pained moan at the protesting kick in his abdomen. "Yer gettin' soft."

Sam's smile settled at that. "How're you feeling?"

Dean rested his head back on his pillow, relaxing his stiff neck. "Super," he replied sarcastically. Sammy winced in sympathy. "When do I get outta here?" Dean suddenly asked, feeling a panicked sense at not knowing how long he'd been unconscious or all of what had happened.

Sam just gazed at his brother incredulously. "Dean, you were  _stabbed_ ," he pointed out, his voice astounded. Dean was caught off guard at his brother's tone, watching him carefully. When he didn't respond, Sam looked angry. "Do you have any idea what I-" he cut himself off, drawing his mouth into a stubborn line. Dean gazed at Sammy sheepishly, now, before attempting to sit up, wanting to look his brother eye-to-eye. He couldn't- his whole abdomen burned with the effort. Sammy adjusted the bed so Dean was propped up, now, and he tried not to feel ashamed at the fact that he needed help with such a simple task.

"So... what's the damage?" Dean asked, laying a hand lightly over his stomach.

Sammy looked at Dean's hand for a moment before looking back up. "I don't really know much... I was... it's been chaotic. The doctor told me that there was a lot of internal bleeding- that it nearly infected your organs. They had to clean you up and suture the wound. It was just a good thing they got you in the ER on time… they didn't have to remove anything."

Dean nodded, fingers trailing over the left side of his abdomen until he felt the bandage. He allowed himself to look around the hospital space, taking things in. There was another bed in the room, and on it was a man who was snoozing away, head wrapped in gauze and both arms bandaged heavily. A table sat to the right of Dean, and on it sat his cell phone, plugged into a charger. "How long have I been here?" he asked.

Sammy squirmed. "A few days… it's Friday," he mumbled, screwing his face up almost painfully when Dean looked at him incredulously. "I'm sorry. They had to keep you under for a bit- they didn't want to risk you overworking yourself… apparently you gave them a pretty tough time before going into the ER," Sammy noted with a bitchface. Dean smirked at that, lips lifting from their previous frown.

"Yeah, I remember that," he recalled, allowing himself a chuckle. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "My class-"

"I called in a sub," Sam spoke, giving Dean a reassuring smile. "I already got that taken care of. Speaking of school, Charlie wants to check up on you- I'm bringing her here tomorrow. That cool?"

Dean's eyebrows furrowed with sudden confusion. "How long do I gotta stay here?" he asked. The sharp pain in his abdomen gave him a good estimate, though.

Sam shrugged. "The doctor said it could be as long as two weeks. Just until you feel well enough to be able to bathe yourself and all that. And they need to keep checking up on you to make sure you're healing properly."

Dean rolled his eyes, irritation making him bitter. "I'm  _fine_ ," he snapped.

With a smirk, his brother responded. "Yeah, I can tell. Especially with the way you could barely sit up five minutes ago."

Heat crawled into Dean's cheeks, and he let out a harsh breath as he reclined in his seat, pouting. This was ridiculous. Dean needed to go back to work- he didn't get to finish grading his papers and he still had book tests to make for his students. It was gonna be hell to try and work from a freaking hospital bed. He'd need to contact the substitute and provide him lesson plans… for fuck's sake, his class was probably in chaos right about now. Dean only hoped that Charlie took care of the sub. He'd have to ask her, tomorrow.

All of a sudden, Dean remembered something. His stomach churned as he sat back up. "How much did he take?" Dean asked with a nervous side glance towards his brother. Sam seemed to stiffen, as if he were waiting for those words since the moment Dean woke up.

"About four hundred… I cancelled the card as soon as I found out," Sam informed him.

Dean's jaw clenched as he took in the information, running a hand through his hair. "Damnit," he cursed, looking away from Sammy as he tried to compose himself. Four hundred… that's all of his food money for freaking months… and Dean could just forget about gas… it could damage paying for rent, too. "Sam, I can't pay that off," Dean spoke, looking over at his little brother.

Sammy nodded. "I know. I'm getting in touch with your card company and I'm gonna explain what happened… hopefully it won't affect your credit… I'll take care of it, Dean," Sam assured.

Dean nodded. "Thanks," he murmured. He had fifty bucks in his wallet… that kid took that, too. And how the hell was he supposed to pay off this medical bill, too? Uneasiness thrashed about in Dean's stomach to add with the pain, and he just wanted to go back to sleep and forget about all of this.

Sam shifted in his seat. There was more. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, heaving out a sigh as he closed his eyes, the harsh lights of the hospital room too much on his headache.

Sam gave his brother an apologetic look. "The cops are here. I... uh, I called them over when the doctor said you'd be waking up today," he explained, looking away at Dean's glare. "They wanted to ask you about the guy who… they want you to give them a description so they can find him."

Dean shook his head. "No," he responded as he close his eyes, once more.

It was silent, and Dean knew Sam was gonna go off on him… Three… two-

" _What?_ " Sam exclaimed, and Dean could hear him lean forward in his seat. "Did- did you see the guy?"

Dean opened his eyes, turning to squint at his brother. "Yes. He was just a kid, Sammy. He didn't know what he was doing."

"Dean, he  _stabbed you_. You could have died-"

"But I didn't. What did the kid spend my money on?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother. Sam hesitated. "Go ahead, what did the bill come out as?"

Sam frowned. "Medicine… mostly medicine from a grocery store. Some food and clothes, too."

"Leave him alone."

"Dean-"

"That's enough, Sammy," Dean spoke louder, voice firm. "I don't wanna talk about it, anymore."

Sam's lips screwed into a distasteful pout, and he puffed out his chest after he sighed. "You don't have to talk about it with me, but I can't really stop the cops, Dean."

Dean gave a smug smile. "Oh, you don't have to. I'll have them out of here in five minutes tops.  _Oh-_  you wanna bet?"

Sam looked angry. "This is serious."

"I'm  _being_ serious. So, come on. Twenty? I could use the money."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're unbelievable," he murmured.

Dean grinned. "Thanks. I take pride in that."

A moment passed between them. Sam seemed like he wanted to reach out to him, so Dean patted Sammy's arm, ignoring the way it strained on his stitches to move himself over. "I'll be alright, Sam. Now go home and sleep- you look like you've been to hell and back," Dean noted. "How's Jess?"

Sam smiled slightly at the mention of his fiancee. "She's worried about you. Probably gonna want to visit you as soon as possible."

Dean smiled back. "Bring her on Saturday. But honestly, Sam, stop worrying and go home, alright? I'm not dying."

Sam blushed, shrugging. "I was afraid," he murmured. He looked up, now, green puppydog eyes branded with concern and grief. "Dean, I could've lost you."

Nausea wrung at Dean's insides, and he suddenly felt really fucking guilty. He had been reckless- he almost  _died_  and Sam would've been left off on his own. They were the last family each of them had. How could Dean have put him through this? They'd been through thick and thin together. They were each other's crutches, even if Sam had Jess, now. If Dean had died... Sam would be the only one left.

Sure, it wasn't his fault, but Dean just felt the need to blame  _something_. He needed to find a way to get rid of that freaking kicked-puppy expression on his brother's face. So, after composing himself, Dean forced a smile. "Alright, Samantha, that's enough. Bring the coppers in. The big strong men will take care of me," Dean joked, earning a snort from his brother. He instantly felt better at the sight of Sam's smile.

"Yeah, alright. Take care, man," Sam spoke as he got up, scooting the chair back to its correct place before patting Dean on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "See you Saturday."

"See ya."

A few minutes after Sam's hulking figure disappeared out the door, two cops replaced him, walking into the room and looking extremely official and no-nonsense. Dean smirked.

This was going to be fun.

"Hey, boys! What brings you here?"

* * *

"Look- it was dark and I was kind of stabbed and mugged. I didn't really find the time to catch the finer details of his eye color," Dean spoke with an eye roll. He was lying, though. Those frightened, wide blue eyes came back to him all too clear. It was almost as though Dean was back to that Tuesday night, alone and gazing at a freaking mirror image of his own sixteen-year old self.

The older cop sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. His younger companion spoke up. "Sir, we are trying to help you find the person that did this to you. If you could just cooperate-"

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I've got nothin'," Dean spoke, outstretching his arms in emphasis and only barely managing to hold back a pained groan at the discomfort.

The young cop looked through a notepad, skimming his eyes over the papers. "Your neighbors were the ones who found you- Jim Russell and Craig Kresnic. They said they saw a teenager running away from the scene- they told us that he was the only one around besides you. Can you confirm this?"

Dean licked his lips, being extra sure to look the cop straight in the eyes. There was no going around this one. "Yeah... it was a kid," he replied. "I, uh, I heard his voice... he sounded younger," Dean added when the cop raised an eyebrow, as if to challenge the fact that Dean had said he'd known nothing.

He returned his attention to his notebook, jotting down information with the scribble of a blue ink pen. "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

Dean shook his head, and with a formal thanks the officers took off, leaving the blond man to his thoughts.

He really hoped the kid had gotten away… despite the situation, Dean felt for the stranger. Hell, the teen hadn't threatened Dean for no good reason. It was obviously a last resort- a desperate act. That kid wasn't a criminal.

He had bought medicine. He bought medicine and food and clothes. That stuff wasn't for himself- he looked healthy enough, if not a little skinny. He had done this for someone else. Dean  _knew_ he had done it for someone else. Maybe for a younger sibling.

That hit so close to home that Dean couldn't find it within himself to report every last detail of the kid's appearance to the officers. He knew that the guy didn't belong behind bars. Dean knew that the teen had someone he had to take care of- someone to protect and come home to. Sure, what he did wasn't okay, under any circumstances. But, hell, Dean was alive and the kid had got what he needed (not that Dean wouldn't have helped if he had just  _asked_ )... The teen simply mixed up his morals in an act of desperation. That's all that happened.

And, ironically, Dean prayed that the cops wouldn't find his attacker. No amount of lost money or hospital bills could change his mind on that matter.

Sighing, Dean reclined in his rickety hospital bed, allowing himself to settle down and detach himself from the chaos of the week's events. He had just felt the fluttering fingers of sleep grasp at his mind when he remembered something.

Castiel.

Dean groaned with the thought, and he closed his eyes to wane the effects of his increasing headache. Dean was supposed to meet with Castiel, today. And he had said he'd visit the library. The dude was probably pissed. And Dean was pretty sure Castiel wouldn't believe his "I got stabbed by a kid" excuse.

Why hadn't he gotten Castel's number? Isn't that, like, the first thing you do?

He always did suck at this kind of stuff….

Dean  _could_ get Sammy to visit the library for him… but then he'd have to explain that he made out with the fortune teller that he had insisted was a "phony". Sam would definitely not let Dean out of that one, easily.

No, Dean would have to wait to do it, himself.

He could only hope that Castiel would be willing to listen.

* * *

Dean hated hospitals. That was what he had learned in the one night and way-too-long morning he had spent conscious in it. It smelled like disinfectant and death, he wasn't allowed to eat any real food (his stomach was still healing), and it was so incredibly  _boring._  Dean had almost sobbed with relief when Sammy walked in during visiting hours.

Jess was with him, and she all but shoved Sam to the side to get to Dean and wrap him in a tight hug. It didn't do wonders for his stitches, but Dean didn't complain, and gave a laugh as he returned her embrace.

"Nice to see you too, Jess," he spoke from the wild curls of her golden hair, and the girl squeezed tighter in response before pulling away, looking almost embarrassed as she tucked away a lock behind her ear.

"I'm glad you're okay," she spoke, her voice a little shaky and eyes glassy with gathering tears. Sam came to her side, settling his hand on the small of her back as he gave her a chair. He urged to sit in it with a few comforting words. Dean almost didn't notice Charlie by his side before she gave Dean a pat on shoulder, squeezing it slightly as she smiled. Dean grinned in response.

"Hey, Charlie! How's school life without me?" he asked, smirking when she rolled her eyes and sat by him on the bed, letting out a theatrical sigh.

"Terribly boring and pretty chaotic. Do you have any idea how many of your students came to me asking if you were dead? It's been anarchy," she spoke with an eye roll as Dean snorted. "You need to come back pronto, I might actually go insane."

Dean smiled at that. "I'll be outta here in no time. Kinda tired of this place- the nurses aren't even hot," he spoke, shrugging indifferently and earning a laugh from Charlie.

"Yeah, I agree with you on that one. I bet they're just itching to kick you out, anyways. How much trouble have you been giving them, Winchester?" Charlie asked, giving Dean a smirk and a knowing glance.

Dean placed a theatrical hand on his chest, tangling his IV tubes about his arm. " _Charlie_ , I've been a complete angel," Dean protested, feigning a hurt expression. Sam snorted and Jessica grinned. Charlie shoved Dean playfully- lighter than she normally would.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"How you holdin' up?" Sam asked, leaning forward in his chair. Dean shrugged in response.

"I'm doin' okay. Moving better, that's for sure. Not allowed to eat so they stuck this shit in me," Dean spoke distastefully, fiddling with his IV.

Sam rolled his eyes, although he was smiling. "As soon as you're better we'll go out for the greasiest bacon cheeseburger I can find," he promised. The thought made Dean's mouth water, and he wanted out of this death hole more than before.

"I'll hold you up to that," he replied, pointing a finger at his brother.

The rest of the visit was nice. Sam, Jess, and Charlie kept Dean company, entertaining him with stories of how their week has been. Dean asked Charlie about the sub, and she told him that she gave him her own lesson plan to keep the class busy with, since they were both teaching the same material. That had definitely calmed Dean's nerves, and he allowed himself to relax as he asked Sam and Jess how their wedding arrangements were coming along. Jess's eyes had brightened at the topic, and Sam had gazed at her adoringly as she spoke to Dean about what they were planning. It felt nice to get some good news to contradict all the recent bad ones, and Dean couldn't help but allow himself a big smile- one far happier than he was used to wearing.

Dean was grateful for the distraction from his headache, and it seemed all too soon when the nurse had come in giving Dean another dosage of painkillers and reminding the guests that visiting hours were almost over.

Inevitably, Sam brought up the topic of Dean's living standards, and Jess and Charlie left the room to give the two some privacy.

"I've been thinking… maybe we should find you somewhere else to live," Sam spoke hesitantly. Dean tensed and sighed at the topic.

"No way, Sam. That apartment is the cheapest one around,  _and_ it's close enough to the school. It's more than fine," Dean lied. Truth was, he really  _wanted_ to move out. It just wasn't possible. He didn't have the money or the time to look for somewhere else. Hell, his apartment wasn't great but Dean was content. He had everything he needed to get by, and that was enough for him. Sam seemed to notice Dean's hesitance, because he only pursued the topic, his face taking a concerned appeal as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Dean, I really think you should consider it… your safety comes before money, alright?" Sam argued. He gave Dean a stern look when he snorted. "Hell, you can even live with Jess and me. It's safer and-"

Dean rolled his eyes before interrupting. "I'm not going to live with you. One: that's weird and, two: you're hours away from the school and you know that _._ I'm fine where I am. Just because this one little thing ha-"

"That's just it, though! This wasn't a little thing! You've been  _stabbed_ for Christ's sake! Right outside your apartment! If your neighbors hadn't-"

Sam was silenced by the other patient in the room shushing him, turning to glare at the two from his bed before huffing out a breath and closing his eyes to continue sleeping. Setting his jaw, Sam licked his lips before continuing in a quieter tone.

"I'll help you look for a place, Dean. I just… I don't want you living in that apartment, anymore." When Dean scoffed, Sam threw in his best puppy-dog eyes, giving Dean a begging look that he had never been able to say no to. The one that got him to go to the carnival. The one that got him to meet Cas. Hell, pretty much the one that got him into this whole mess. "If you're not going to do this for yourself, just do it for me, okay? I will go crazy if I know that you have to live in that crap-hole."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad," he murmured.

Sam gave him a bitchface. "Is that a yes, then?"

Dean gnawed on his lower lip as he thought to himself. He averted his gaze to his brother, staring at him steadily. "If things are clear with my credit company, then I'll  _consider_ -"

"Okay, fair enough. I'm gonna help you get through all this. I promise."

"Yeah, alright. Thanks, Sammy," Dean replied, crossing his arms as he reclined in his bed. He was tired and the effects of the painkillers were starting to take over, making him drowsy.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you something," Sam spoke up, reaching to a messenger bag he had with him-

Dean's leather messenger bag.

"Aw, dude, thanks so much!" Dean grinned, claiming the bag from his brother's hands. "I was stressing out about falling behind. And now I've got something to do," Dean spoke as he rifled through his papers and pulled out some ungraded quizzes and essays. It wasn't a very entertaining thing to keep him preoccupied while recovering, but it was exactly what Dean needed. He had been itching to work since he woke up.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I knew you'd want that. I grabbed it from the Impala since I couldn't find it in your apartment. You have no idea how worried I was that the kid had stolen that, too," Sam recalled with a grim frown.

Dean hummed in acknowledgement. "I guess I forgot it in the car that night," he murmured. "It's a good thing, too. All my shit's in here."

Suddenly, Sam got up and Dean looked away from his bag to see that the nurse had walked in, giving the two brothers a stern look. He suddenly realized that it was eight forty, ten minutes past visiting hours. "Alright then, I'll leave you to that. See you tomorrow," Sam spoke as he gave Dean a pat on the arm. Dean waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't bother. I'm pretty sure you have more important things to do."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Tomorrow's Sunday," he pointed out. "I'll be here," he confirmed. Dean smirked.

"See ya, Bitch."

"Later, Jerk."

* * *

_Broken glass shimmered against the flickering lights. Dean pumped his legs faster._

_Sammy. Dad told him to get Sammy._

_He tripped, legs weak and knees buckling together with fear. Arms extended out to catch himself, and a searing pain shot through his left hand as glass bit into it- slicing skin apart from the impact. Dean didn't have time to check it. He got right back up and ran to Sammy's room…._

_Dean could hear him crying, and that noise ignited something within him, urging him to run faster. Gunshots rang through the house- the loudest thing he ever heard. Screams- whether it was his mom or dad he couldn't tell, he couldn't remember._

_Crying. Sam was still crying. The smoke was thickening, engulfing the room._

_And Dean jumped into the flames, falling into a black pit._

A gasp escaped Dean's mouth as he woke with a start, the stitch in his left side burning with pain as his body forced him into an upright position. Dean could almost smell the smoke- could almost taste the ashes on his tongue- remnants of the nightmare that had played like a movie behind his eyelids.

Shaky hands lifted themselves before he could even form a coherent thought, settling on his face and wiping down to rid him of the cold sweat that beaded there. Dean took in a breath, moving a hand down to run over his burning wound. He settled his hand there, splaying it out and letting the warmth of it settle the pain.

_It was just a dream_ , he told himself as he lifted up his left hand, gazing at the defect that marked it.  _It was just a dream._

But Dean knew that wasn't true. He had the scar to prove it.

* * *

Dean had nearly finished completing his test questions on Sunday afternoon when Sam and Jess both burst in with wide smiles and a "happy birthday" melody sung between them. Needless to say, Dean was more than shocked, and his bafflement only increased when a present was dropped onto his lap as the song ended. They both laughed at Dean's expression, and he gazed at them with wide eyes.

"What the hell?" he managed to utter. Sam spoke up.

"It's the twenty-fourth. Your big "three-zero"," he teased, plopping down on a chair along with Jessica. "I had a feeling you forgot when you told me not to worry about visiting."

Dean snorted. "I didn't even know what day it was," he admitted, glancing down at the present in his lap. He suddenly chuckled. "Leave it to me to spend my 30th in a hospital bed."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't expect it." Dean gave his brother a bitchface, although it could never be quite as sassy.

"Well, go on, open your present!" Jess ordered, pushing it closer to him. "It's from both of us," she informed him with a smile.

Dean looked down at the wrapped gift. He was normally picky when it came to birthday gifts, since his birthday wasn't too long after Christmas. He didn't like the thought of Sam spending so much on him, especially at one time. But the look in Jess's eyes made him not want to disappoint her, so he unwrapped it, tearing apart glossy green paper.

His eyes widened at what peeked out at his through the first tear, and he ripped away the rest of the gift-wrap. A laptop presented itself to him, and he looked up at his brother. "Damnit, Sammy, we have a price limit-"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well screw the price limit. Do you like it?"

Dean couldn't help but snort at the question. "Well,  _yeah_ ," he replied. "But-"

"No buts," Jessica interrupted.

"You need it, Dean. It'll be a lot easier to do all your work on it. It has built in wifi, too, so you can use it at school and everything," he said with a smile. "And I mean, you told me the library by your apartment closed down so I figured if you got a laptop that could help."

Dean licked his lips. He hadn't even expected Sammy to give that a second thought. He looked at the laptop box. It was probably the most expensive thing ever gifted to him, and he couldn't help the way his throat clenched at that thought. He panicked, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. "Sam-"

"All you need to say is thank-you," his brother spoke, giving him a smile. Dean felt his heart swell, and he gave a light laugh, shaking his head. It was silent for a moment.

Dean looked at Sam and Jess, giving them both a soft smile. "Thanks, you guys," he spoke. And he really meant it. Sam laced his hand with Jessica's, her ring sparkling happily, bringing warmth to the dullness of the room they sat in.

Although he was in a hospital bed, it had to be one of Dean's better birthdays. He had Sammy by his side. Sam had Jess with him. Things were going well and Dean could see even clearer than before how great those two were for each other. Dean was happy for Sam and Jess, and being around them just made him relax and feel really truly  _content._  It was nice knowing that he had gotten through raising Sammy- that his little brother was settling down after the chaos their life has been, even taking car of  _Dean_ , now. And although it was sad to see that Sam didn't need his older brother anymore, Dean came to the conclusion that he was okay with it. Seeing Sammy happy was the best birthday gift of all. It was more than Dean could ask for.

And if Dean felt a strange stirring within his stomach- an empty, pestering sensation- then he buried that to the back of his mind.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days at the hospital were difficult. It was becoming nearly impossible for Dean to stay in one place, and with the amount of free time he had, Dean found that he was spending it worrying about work, his apartment, his credit company, and what he had going on with Castiel. He spent his days working on setting up his laptop, customizing it and preparing it for when he would return to work. Once he had gotten his laptop up and running, he emailed his sub with lesson plans and a test he had prepared, and that little accomplishment made him feel much better. Still, though, it was unsettling to stay in one place for so long. Dean knew that, despite his protests, he was still in no condition to leave the hospital. His wound was healing slowly, and he was still at risk for infection, according to Doctor Morgan.

When he told Sam the news, he had insisted on coming to visit Dean. Dean had declined, though, knowing how long it took for him to drive to the hospital. Sammy didn't need to deal with this- he was busy with work and with Jess. So Dean convinced his brother he was alright, assuring him it was nothing and that he'd be out soon. Sam ordered Dean to keep him updated, and the blond man obliged.

The hospital was no place for Dean Winchester.

Dean was constantly trying to sneak off and walk around to test himself, but the nurses would always catch him and bring him back to his bed, ordering him to stay put as they re-inserted his IV tubes. Dean's legs felt weak from their lack of use, and he practiced walking in secret so he could be ready to leave as soon as possible. Well, he walked as far as the IV tubes in his arm would let him. The nurses had strictly instructed him  _not_ to take those out, again. The burning of his wound lessened and lessened as the days passed, and pretty soon he was permitted to start training his stomach to handle food, again. Dean had grown concernedly thin in such a short amount of time, so when the nurse handed him a light soup he almost inhaled it down, only being held back by stern warnings.

He took it slow, and he was patient. It hurt to eat, but he didn't let the nurses know that. The last thing he'd do is allow himself to be hooked up to IV tubes, again. He could handle food. He'd take it slow.

By Tuesday, Dean was walking about and bathing on his own (with a little difficulty, he must admit), practically mocking the nurses who told him he should sit down when they saw that he was in pain. He had insisted he was fine, and after a few tests the nurses deemed him well enough to go home the next day. Dean suspected it was out of their want for him to leave.

It didn't matter to him either way, and Dean called Sammy as soon as he got the news, ordering him to bring over the Impala when Wednesday came. The nurses had Dean and Sam sign a few papers that would deal with getting Dean's ass officially out of the hospital, and Sam paid particularly close attention to the nurse's instructions on what to eat and how to clean the stitches, along with pain medicine and antibiotics that Dean needed to take in order to enhance his recovery and prevent infection. Dean almost groaned as Sam wrote everything down, assuring the nurses that he'd make sure Dean followed their instruction. His hopes of a greasy bacon cheeseburger quickly dwindled away, but Dean found that he didn't mind when they got to the rain-soaked parking lot, his precious baby waiting for him- black painted exterior dotted with shimmering raindrops. Dean could've died with happiness right then and there.

After chucking his things in the trunk and going over a few rules with Sam (drive safely, Dean! No speeding or swerving! Put on your seatbelt- not too tight), Dean was driving the Impala, Sammy in the passenger seat. He pretended not to notice that Sam had filled up the gas, although it did irritate him. He was too happy being out of the hospital to bother arguing with his brother.

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Sam asked, eyeing Dean as he drove.

"I'm fine," he replied, placing a hand on his stitches reflexively, his left hand grasping the steering wheel as he guided the Impala onto the road towards his apartment, where Sam's had parked earlier. They had just finished picking up Dean's prescription, and the ride had been mostly silent.

Sam nodded. "Alright. But, Dean, if you need anything just call, alright? And please follow the nurse's instructions- I wrote it down for you and put it in the front pocket of your bag."

Dean snorted. "Thanks, mother," he teased, earning a light punch on the arm from his brother.

"I'm serious, man. No heavy foods- just soups for now, alright? Your stomach can't take anything more. Hell, you should probably still be hooked up to those IV's."

Dean shuddered, shaking his head. "I know how to take care of myself. 'Last place I wanna be is back in that hospital bed, believe me," Dean protested, glancing at his brother before returning his eyes to the road. Sam was silent.

"I know," he finally responded. The last of the drive went in silence, and pretty soon the two brothers were at Dean's apartment. The Impala pulled in smoothly into the parking lot, and Dean hesitated in his seat for a second or two before finally stepping out. Sam helped him get his things, and after convincing his brother that he didn't need assistance bringing his stuff in, Sammy was saying his goodbyes.

"I'll see you later, okay?" he spoke as he pulled Dean in for a hug before letting go, glancing nervously at the apartment building. It was broad daylight, but Sam still seemed anxious. Dean couldn't blame him- he was, too. "Please be careful," he whispered, meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean gave his brother a grin. "I'll be fine. Go home, Sammy. I'll call you tomorrow to update," he promised, and Sam's shoulders seemed to relax a little bit at that.

"Alright," he agreed, giving his brother a smile and pat on the back before climbing into his Volvo. "Get some rest," he advised before closing the door and starting up the car.

Dean watched as his brother drove away before he made his way to his apartment. Right outside it, something caught his eye. Dean paused. A dark stain marked the floor, right where Dean had been stabbed.

His blood.

Licking his dry lips and trying to calm his racing heart, Dean shook his head before walking into his building and quickly making his way to his room. His shaky hand fumbled around in his pocket until Dean grasped the brass key, and he unlocked the door, stepping in.

It was pretty much just how he left it last week. Dean could tell Sam had been in it, though. Things were organized and it held the deteriorating buzz of life- something it normally lacked.

Sighing, Dean closed the door behind him and walked to his bedroom, tossing his things in there before heading into the bathroom to take a long shower and clean his stitches. When he was finished, Dean sat down on his bed, finding that he was already exhausted. It was only five o'clock, and Dean felt like he had spent the whole day working out.

He couldn't go to sleep, yet. So, with that in mind, Dean set to organizing his things for work, tomorrow. He called the school to inform them of his return, and then he called Charlie to thank her for helping handle his class while he was gone, promising her he'd be back tomorrow and that he'd make it up to her. Charlie seemed happy enough with Dean's promised return, and she planned out lunch in her classroom during their break. Dean had agreed, warning his friend that he'd be eating literal bunny food, and Charlie has teased him, bragging about how she was going to eat a delicious burger right in front of him.

Despite the difficulties that would come with going back to work (grades, planning, catching up), Dean was excited to be back in his regular pattern. It had felt strange being at the hospital, and he wanted to quickly shed off all memories of the place.

When he was done doing the most he could, it was only six o'clock. For a while, Dean debated on whether or not he should go to the library and try to find Castiel. He decided against it, though, and promised himself he'd visit tomorrow.

With that hanging over him, Dean made himself some tomato soup and retired early for the night, collapsing onto the bed to earn himself some much-needed rest.

* * *

"Oh my god, he's alive!" Stacy Evans' voice rung out the moment Dean stepped into his classroom. He let out a chuckle as a crowd of voices arose, each asking question upon question, until it was impossible to decipher who was saying what.

After placing his bag down on his desk, Dean called for the class to quiet themselves. Once everyone had settled, a kid sitting in the back (Jake Murphey, if Dean was correct) spoke up.

"Is it true that you got stabbed?" he asked, once again stirring up excited voices.

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the bluntness of the question (his students were hardly ever subtle), and once the talk died down by frustrated hushes from a few curious students, Dean spoke. "Well- uh, yeah, I guess I did."

"Oh my god! Did it hurt? Are you okay?" Stephanie asked from the third row.

"Well, yeah, it wasn't pleasant. And it wasn't as cool as all the action movies make it seem, that's for sure," Dean replied, earning laughs. "It was not very fun."

"But you're okay, right?" Stephanie persisted.

Dean smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. How did Mr. Williams treat you all?" Dean asked as he unpacked his things, arranging them throughout his desk.

A collective groan sounded out, and Dean laughed at the reaction. Jake spoke up once again. "He sucked, he had us do all this work that had nothing to do with what you taught us. Ms. Bradbury ended up teaching more than he did."

Dean smiled, somewhat pleased at the fact that his class missed him just as much as he missed them. "Yeah, sorry about that," Dean apologized. "But I'm here to stay, now. And I'm probably not gonna get stabbed, again," he promised, earning more laughs. When a bunch of people started talking, asking question upon question, he called for silence. "No more on that topic. We gotta catch up, you guys are really behind."

Another chorus of groans sounded out, and Dean gave a smile as he grabbed his "Grendel" novel, flipping it open to the correct page.

"Okay, show of hands. Who actually read the book while I was gone?"

* * *

When lunch came by, Dean was grateful. He was exhausted, and although he wasn't too chipper about the thought of dining on some vegetable soup, he was thankful for a short break so he could rest himself and prepare for the remainder of the day. He made his way to Charlie's classroom as soon as his phone rang with her "a-okay", and he trudged his feet along underneath him, trying his best not to look to worn out.

As soon Charlie caught sight of him, though, she noticed. "Are you sure you should be back?" she asked right away as she pulled out a chair for him. Dean plopped down onto it gratefully, not bothering to deny how tired he really was, anymore.

"I'm fine," he assured her. How many times has he said that in the past week? "It's just the medication making me drowsy. It's all good."

Screwing her lips into a pout, Charlie rolled her eyes. "Also, it probably has to do with the fact that you should've been in the hospital for two weeks to finish healing properly."

Dean returned Charlie's eyeroll. "If the hospital let me out then that means I'm fine."

"No, it means that you bothered the poor nurses until they finally snapped," Charlie chastised.

Sighing, Dean sat up as he grabbed his soup, getting up to pop it into the microwave near Charlie's desk. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You got your cheeseburger?" he asked, looking to change the subject.

Charlie smile, lifting up a container of leafy greens. "I decided to join you in your bunny-food extravaganza," she sympathized. Dean gave her a grateful expression.

"Did I ever mention how awesome you are?" he asked as the microwave beeped.

Charlie smirked. "No, but don't let me stop you."

Dean gave her a look before dragging his chair over next to her, sitting down and stirring his soup. "So my class loved you," he noted, blowing on a spoon of mixed peas and carrots, suddenly remembering Castiel's soup he had on their date.

Charlie smiled. "Of course they did- I'm awesome. That Mr. Williams sure is a joke, though. He subbed for me when I caught the flu. My class hated him."

Dean nodded. "So did mine. What's up with that guy, anyway?"

Charlie gave a dramatic shrug and eyeroll. "No clue. He's, like, seventy or something. Shouldn't he be buying an expensive car with his retirement money and eating tapioca? Isn't that what they do?"

Dean snorted, trying not to choke on his lunch. "Careful, Charlie, we're heading down that road sooner or later."

Charlie elbowed the blond man, smiling. "Yeah,  _you are_ , Mr. Thirty. I'm still fresh and young."

Dean smiled. "Sure, whatever. Be sure to help me walk to my car later, alright? These eyes ain't what they used to be," Dean joked.

"I'll get you an attractive young model to be your assistant. Speaking of which, you wanna celebrate? Your birthday, that is. We can go to Pam's bar tonight," Charlie suggested, munching on a piece of spinach. "We promise not to get you too drunk," she spoke with a sly wink. Dean laughed, shaking his head.

"Not on a school night, Charlie. And the  _nurses_  said I can't have any alcohol, caffeinated, or sugary drinks... pretty much nothing but soup and water. Liquid diet. I don't even know if these vegetables are legal," he spoke as an afterthought, inspecting his vegetable soup.

Charlie made an exasperated noise. "But what's the point of birthdays if you can't break the rules?" she whined.

Dean shook his head. "Raincheck," he promised. "Besides, I've got something I have to do, later," Dean spoke, instantly regretting it when Charlie's eyes sparkled with curiosity. She caught the look on his face, and pounced at the opportunity to harass him.

"Ooh la la, does Mr. Winchester have a date?" she asked, smile growing wider when Dean flushed.

Dean rolled his eyes, trying to seem indifferent. "I'm not sure, actually. It depends how things go."

Charlie leaned forward in her seat, salad forgotten. "Tell me everything! Who is he? Or she? Man or woman?  _Dean,_ " she suddenly exclaimed, "is it a nurse?" she asked, propping the heels of her palms on the edge of her seat.

Dean sighed, determining it useless to try and hide anything from Charlie. "A guy. Not a nurse... librarian, actually. His name is Castiel," he admitted, feeling completely dumb. Dean barely knew the guy, anyways. They had made out once. Dean didn't do relationships, and Charlie knew that. So Dean decided to cut her questions loose before she could speak, again. "I'm not gonna tell you anything more until I know for sure," he added, taking in a spoonful of soup to finalize his statement. Charlie huffed stubbornly.

"Have it your way," she spoke with a flick of her wrist. "But I'm gonna be expecting updates."

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

It took every ounce of Dean's courage to pull into the parking lot of the library after work that day. He had waited in his car, tapping his fingers on his leg as he reached for the keys… then pulled back… then reached, again. Eventually, Dean took the keys out of the ignition. That didn't force him out of the car, though, and he sat in his seat, savoring the last of the heat as it slowly trickled away in the late January chill.

Castiel probably wasn't even working, today. This was just going to be a waste of time, Dean should just go-

But what if he was in there. Would he be mad? Would he listen to Dean? Would he believe him? Would he think that Dean stood him up on purpose?

Dean's throat tightened to match his wound up nerves, and he took in a deep breath, holding it before letting it out, much to the dissatisfaction of his wound.  _Count to ten, Dean. When you reach ten, you're getting out of this car._

_One._

_What if he's mad?_

_Two._

_He's not in there._

_Three._

_I should go home while I can._

_Four, five, six, seven…_

_Come on, Winchester. Don't over think this._

_Eight, nine…_

_It's just a guy. It's just a guy you're moderately interested in. It's probably not even gonna be serious. Just hook up with him so you can finally forget about it._

_Ten._

Dean was still in his car.

He let out an annoyed drawl of a sigh as he opened his door, mumbling, "What the fucking hell is wrong with me."

He was out of the car. There was no way he could chicken out, now.

Dean's feet moved of their own accord. One step, two steps… Right, left, right, left. Dean forced himself not to think about what he was going to do- he was just gonna dive in there and do it before he could change his mind.

The heaters of the library were welcoming, and it somewhat soothed Dean's nervousness as he walked about, searching for the blue-eyed man. The library was pretty busy. Students sat at desks, some studying studiously while others had their head in their arms- a signature sign of academic defeat. There was a group of children, all supervised by two mothers who guided them to the children's books section. Older people sat about the chairs and couches, some clutching books while others held laptops, some fast asleep.

When he didn't spot Castiel right away, Dean almost considered turning around and booking ass outta there. But then he found him working front desk along with an older lady, checking out some books for children. He looked extremely busy, and that sight was almost enough to make Dean want to apologize for intruding and head straight out. His body moved him towards the man, though, propelling him forward out of his own will and before he even realized it he had called out Castiel's name.

Castiel's head shot up at the sound of his name, and when he met Dean's gaze he seemed shocked, eyes widening and mouth agape before his facial expression suddenly hardened, seeming quite angry. It was a strange look on the man, and Dean was ready to explain his situation when Castiel's gaze suddenly shifted downwards, to Dean's torso. He paled, and caught the arm of the old lady working beside him, whispering something to her to which she nodded at. Before Dean could even comprehend it, Castiel was stepping out from behind the desk, and making his way towards Dean.

Dean remained still, refusing to step forward until Castiel reached him. The dark-haired man grabbed at Dean's left arm, moving it away from him as he squinted at Dean's torso before looking back up, meeting Dean's eyes. "Who did it?" he asked, his voice monotonous. Dean's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked down at his shirt.

How could Castiel tell? Dean was wearing a green button down shirt and a jacket over that. The bandage underneath was barely even detectable- in fact, it was impossible to see at all.

He looked back up at Castiel, raising an eyebrow. "Nice to see you, too, Cas," he breathed out, shocked by the strange behavior.

Castiel's lips hardened into a line, and he let go of Dean's arm. "Come with me," he ordered, turning sharply on his heel as he made his way to the back of the library. Dean followed, no questions asked as they slipped into a storage room.

Castiel flicked on the lights, then turned to face Dean, again. "Show me," he commanded, and Dean caught where he was looking- directly at the scar. How the hell could he tell it was there? And, for God's sake, what did he want him to do? Take off his shirt?

When Castiel's expression did not waver, Dean realized that's exactly what he wanted him to do.

Sighing, Dean unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt, pulling the cloth away to show Castiel where the bandage covered.

The fortune teller stepped forward, reaching out to trace the bandage. Dean flinched instinctively, and Castiel looked up at him, seeming concerned. "Who did it?" he asked again, this time with a certain softness lacing his tone.

Dean buttoned his shirt back up, looking anywhere but at Castiel. "Some kid mugged me outside my apartment, then took my wallet," Dean explained, crossing his arms defensively.

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed, and he didn't remove his gaze from Dean's face. "When did this happen?" He sounded breathless.

Dean met Castiel's gaze, again, searching through those haunting blue eyes. This was not at all how he expected Castiel's reaction to be. He expected a lot more convincing on his part, and a hell of a lot more anger on Cas' part. The last thing he thought would happen was Cas believing him so easily. "Uhm… last week… on Tuesday."

Castiel seemed distressed, now. "After you took me home?" he asked.

Dean shrugged, knowing where Castiel was going with this. He cracked a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Y'know, a little fortune telling would've been nice," he joked, earning a stern look from Castiel.

"This isn't funny, Dean," he chastised.

Dean kept his grin, though. "Sure it is," he insisted. "I got my ass kicked by a kid."

Castiel didn't respond, and Dean resisted the urge to sigh. He didn't like this- having Castiel worry about him. It felt strange… it felt scary. They barely knew one another- why the hell would Castiel care so much?

"Anyways," Dean spoke, trying to change the subject. "I came back," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

Castiel was fighting back his smile, now, trying to remain angry at Dean. "That you did," he agreed, eyes flickering to Dean's lips then back up so fast that Dean was convinced it was a trick of the dim storage closet lighting.

Yet, Dean chanced himself, placing a hand on Castiel's hip as he pulled him near. "I'd still like that second date," he admitted, heart hammering so loud he feared Castiel could hear it.

The grin on Castiel's face was full, now, and he allowed himself to move closer in Dean's grasp. "You think I'm going to let you off that easy, Mr. Winchester?" He teased, making Dean roll his eyes before he smiled.

"I was hoping," he played along. Castiel leaned upwards, so that their lips were almost touching- connected by buzzing electric energy that traveled through mingling breaths.

"You know," his low voice purred, making Dean shiver. "The library has a phone."

Dean's jaw dropped at the statement. He hadn't even thought of that. Through all the free time at the hospital and the freaking out over what Cas would think, he never once thought to just  _call the goddamned library._ The answer was so ridiculously simple that Dean had no idea how to even respond. Castiel laughed at his expression, reaching forward to kiss Dean gently- just a small connection of lips before he parted them.

Dean ducked back in for another kiss, not even realizing how much he had missed this. Damnit, it had only been a week, too. Castiel placed his arms on Dean's back, pulling him in as their kissing deepened. When their lips parted, Dean spoke.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking into Castiel's eyes.

Castiel chuckled, shaking his head. "There is no need to apologize," he insisted. "I'm glad you're alright."

Dean sighed, moving his hands up Cas's sides. "You probably thought I ditched you."

Castiel shrugged. "Honestly, I did. I thought you had set me up. It was quite… disappointing. But now I see you had more urgent matters at hand."

Dean gave a small smile. "I really wanted to see you," he admitted, not even caring how needy it sounded.

Castiel searched Dean's eyes before looking down, reaching out a hand to brush the tips of his fingers over where Dean's bandage laid. Dean watched, observing the way Castiel's slender fingers traced lightly- resisting the urge to pull away and listen to the warning bells that sounded in his head. Dean could only barely feel the press of Castiel's fingertips- it was almost as if they weren't there at all. "How are you feeling?" Castiel asked before looking back up.

"I'm fine," Dean replied, reaching forward to kiss away the frown that played on Castiel's lips. "Really," he insisted.

Castiel smiled, then. "Well enough for a date on Friday?" he asked.

Dean could feel his heart jump up, and the feeling reached his throat. He managed to nod as he smiled. "Definitely."

Castiel seemed delighted with Dean's answer. He reached forward and continued their kisses, lips molding and pressing in a dizzying heat. Dean's lips hummed with the friction, practically forcing him to push into Castiel, closing up any gaps between them. Long, warm hands planted themselves at Dean's sides, bunching up the material of his jacket and pulling him nearer, far more gently than they had been last week. He wanted those hands under his clothes, roaming with an unfamiliar stride and sliding over him with the silky smoothness of skin to skin- he wanted them on his head, pulling at his hair and bringing him in, guiding him to lips, tongue, teeth.

The fortune teller nosed Dean away, panting as he gazed at Dean's lips. "We could spend it at my house," he suggested, a sly look in his eyes as they rose upwards. Dean's gut burned with need and he nodded, pressing forward to reclaim Castiel's lips.

"Yes," he agreed, placing controlled kisses on slick lips. "Yeah, sounds good."

Then they were back at it, Dean grasping on tight to Castiel's hips, thumbs rubbing circles as he nipped at Castiel's lower lip, drawing out a hum from the man. Castiel's hands flew up to cradle Dean's cheeks, fingers running along the curve of bone as they slid back into his hair, pulling at the tendrils almost as if he could hear Dean's thoughts. Dean couldn't help the satisfied growl he let out as he licked and kissed and sucked. Slowly, Castiel's hands trailed down to Dean's back, pressing his chest in so they were flush against one another, making the kissing angle awkward. Dean didn't mind, though, savoring the warm heat Castiel's body provided and distracting himself from the burn in his wound as Castiel reciprocated Dean's kisses.

Castiel did things to Dean's tongue that went straight to his imagination, sucking and circling and teasing at the tip and edge, and soon Dean was parting their lips, feeling a hard on come along. "We could go now," he suggested, voice barely there at all as he gave Castiel some more kisses. Castiel was smiling against Dean, making their teeth clink as he laughed into Dean's parted lips. Dean breathed it in deeply, tasting peppermint and something sweet- something that could only be described as  _Castiel_. He found that he was subconsciously memorizing Castiel's laugh, too.

Castiel gave Dean a long, full kiss before he smiled and moved his hands to place themselves on Dean's chest, pushing him away slightly. They were still close enough for Dean to see all the different shades of blue that colored the fortune teller's eyes. The blue was hardly there at all now that his eyes were mostly dark pupils- filled with lust and need. "I have to go back to work, Mr. Winchester," he panted out, raising a challenging eyebrow as the smirk stayed on his face.

Dean let his fingers run up Castiel's sides lightly, drinking in the way the librarian's body shivered underneath his fingertips. He planted a kiss on the corner of Castiel's lips, smirking when he saw them pucker slightly, awaiting a real kiss. "Are you sure?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

"Yes," Castiel confirmed, clearing his throat to steady his shaky voice. He licked his lips as he tore away his gaze from Dean. Suddenly, he straightened up. "Here," he spoke, turning around and grabbing a notepad and pen from a nearby table. He scrawled onto it, then ripped out the paper, handing it to Dean with a sly smile. "Just in case."

Dean took the paper. It was Castiel's number. He smiled, pocketing it. "So… tomorrow?" he asked.

An upward turn of lips. "Tomorrow."

* * *

As Dean drove back to his apartment, body buzzing with excitement and lips tingling with remnants of heated kisses, he knew he was in too deep. The slip of paper weighed like lead in Dean's pocket, and his fingers brushed at it every few seconds. His mind was made up, and Dean knew what he wanted.

There would be no turning back, now.


	5. Chapter 5

"What are you smiling about?" a voice spoke, jolting Dean from his reverie. Dean glanced up to see Charlie standing over his desk, a dainty eyebrow cocked and a smirk on her face.

Shocked, Dean checked his watch. It was his lunch break. He was supposed to head to Charlie's room. "Sorry, I lost track of time," he spoke, putting away his assignments (he hadn't even been paying much attention to them, anyways).

Charlie grabbed a chair, plopping her salad on Dean's desk, along with a bowl of soup, sliding it in front of Dean. She sat down, diverting her attention to her purse where she dug out a packet of crackers, placing it between them. "So are you going to tell me what you were thinking about?" She asked, smiling as she drizzled ranch onto her caesar salad, closing the lid and shaking it about. Dean cradled his soup near him, shifting his spoon through it.

"Just… uh, a joke," he lied, giving Charlie a smile. She gazed at him suspiciously, setting her salad over crossed legs.

"Mind sharing?"

Dean licked his lips. "Uhm… well, it's an inside joke… Sammy and I- uh, you wouldn't get it," Dean babbled, leading a spoonful of soup to his mouth.

Charlie hummed in response. "I take it you're seeing that guy, today?"

Dean nearly choked on his food, although he should've known Charlie would guess it right. He looked over at the redhead, taking in her smug grin as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I am."

Charlie looked especially proud with herself. "That's what I thought. So, tell me, how did you meet this mystery man?" she asked, putting aside all teasing as she munched on her lettuce.

Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat, averting his eyes towards his bowl. "Uhm, at a carnival back in November. Then I saw him again at the library the other week and… one thing happened after another, I guess."

Charlie suddenly looked serious. "So you're seeing him more than once?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah," he replied, crumbling some crackers into his soup in order to avoid eye contact.

He could hear Charlie hum thoughtfully. "Is it serious, then?"

Dean could feel his face heat up, although he tried his best to ignore it. "How's your class, Charlie?" he asked, setting his face to a nonchalant expression as he looked over at his friend.

Charlie pouted, but she let it go. "Fine, fine, I get it. How're you feeling, though? No jokes," she asked, putting up a finger in warning.

"I'm fine. It's healing well- doesn't need a bandage, anymore," Dean informed her, trying to add a light air to it all.

It was true, though. He was already starting to feel better now that he was working and getting his mind off of knives and money and hospitals. It felt good to get back into his normal routine. And, hell, he had a freaking  _date_. When was the last time he did something like that?

Things were okay… things were looking up.

Charlie smiled. "That's great- I'm glad. As soon as you're well enough we gotta celebrate," she reminded him.

Dean smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, we will."

A sly grin lifted Charlie's lips. "Good. We got that meeting in a few, so finish up quick."

* * *

As soon as Dean got home he felt butterflies kick in the pit of his stomach, escaping from the net that he kept them in throughout the duration of his day. He had been worrying himself about his date with Cas nonstop. Not even his classes could distract him. During the literature department meeting, Dean found himself kicked in the shin multiple times by Charlie in order to divert his attention to what was being discussed. It didn't work, though. Hell, Dean didn't even know what the meeting was about. Something along the lines of establishing a new date and questions for the next test or something dull like that. He'd have to contact Charlie later to ask for more details on that…

Presently, Dean was preparing himself to visit the library. He had showered and changed and was now fretting over his appearance in the mirror like some teenaged girl going on her first date. It was humorous, almost. But Dean was too nervous to laugh at himself. When he had spent well over thirty minutes trying to get up the courage to leave, Dean tore his eyes away from the mirror, shucked on a jacket, and headed out the door, keys jingling in his hand as he swung them about his finger.

_Stay calm. Just take a deep breath. Count to ten._

_It's just a date, it's just a date._

_Just a date._

But it  _wasn't_  just a date, Dean reminded himself as he climbed into the Impala, sitting frozen in his seat, keys halfway to the ignition. It was his second date. With the same person. Within the span of a few weeks. There wasn't even a promise of sex, for Christ's sake.

Was Dean actually serious about this guy? Was he ready to do something like this?

Blue eyes raided his perception- a gravelly voice and a haunting gaze. Suddenly Dean's questions were answered. He wanted more. He wanted so much more.

And that fucking terrified him.

* * *

When Dean arrived at the library it was only seven-thirty. He hesitated at the door before garnering a few odd looks and forcing himself inside. The library was not very busy, today (probably since it was a Friday and people had better things to do). The lady from the counter the previous day was not there, leaving the front desk empty. There were a few teen volunteers rolling around carts filled with books and assisting visitors, leading them to certain sections they required. It was a calm and pleasant setting, and Dean could instantly tell why Castiel was so fond of it.

While making his way to the tables, Dean's ears picked up on Castiel's voice. He instinctively turned towards the source, and found Castiel leading a mother and her child towards the front desk. Castiel had a children's book held in his hand, and he was talking to the child as he walked. Dean couldn't help but stare.

The librarian caught Dean's eyes for a moment, and smiled at him in greeting before resuming his assistance. Dean returned the gesture, heading off to a table and leaving the librarian to work.

He decided to get some work done, himself, so Dean pulled out his laptop and set to busying his mind and calming the nervous beating of his heart. He decided to email Charlie asking her if she could send him her notes from the meeting. It took a while, seeing as Dean had to think up of a good excuse as to why he needed them. He decided to go with "I lost mine".

Charlie replied merely minutes later:

_Dean,_

_I don't think one can lose notes they didn't take. Either way, I've decided to take pity upon you and have therefore attached pictures of my notes to this message. Look at the end of the email._

_Have fun "totally not hanging out" with Mr. Mystery Man, tonight_

_I expect details. Many details. Don't hold back on me, now._

_-Charlie_

Deciding it best not to reply just yet, Dean downloaded the attachments and read through them, making notes on his calendar and writing reminders for him to change his testing schedule. The kids would be happy, their next test was pushed forward two days.

Dean proceeded with his work, and was so caught up in it that he didn't even notice people had left until the library lights began to shut off. Sitting up straight in his seat with shock, the blond man collected himself as he registered where he was. After deciding that it was rather foolish to sit in the dark, Dean used the light of his laptop and the emergency lights of the library to gather his things. It was eerily silent, only the noise of a ticking clock and the hum of a heater making their presence known. He looked out for Castiel, but the fortune teller was nowhere to be found. Had Castiel left…?

Hands placed themselves on Dean's shoulders, and a theatrical "Boo!" sounded out from behind him.

Dean couldn't help but jump with shock, dropping his folder and scattering papers everywhere as he turned around.

"Jesus fucking-"

"Mind your tongue, Mr. Winchester," Castiel warned with a smug smile. He seemed to be holding back laughter behind his pearly white smile.

Dean put a hand over his pounding heart. "You scared the shit outta me," he breathed out. He found that he had been subconsciously leaning back against the table, a clammy hand grasping onto the edge of it. Dean composed himself, standing up straight, now.

Castiel seemed sheepish. "I apologize, I could not help it," he spoke as he got down, gathering all of Dean's papers. He placed them in the folder and handed it to the teacher.

Smiling, Dean laughed. "Well, you got me. I thought you had forgotten I was here and locked me in," he admitted.

Castiel smiled back. "I would not do that," he assured.

Their eyes locked and Dean gazed at Castiel dumbly for a moment before he realized what he was doing. "Uh, are you ready to go?" he asked, shucking on his jacket and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"I have to finish locking up," Castiel spoke, jingling keys from a coiled lanyard. Dean got the message.

"Yeah, I'll leave you to it. I'm gonna grab the car and wait for you out front," Dean decided. Castiel nodded.

"It'll only be a moment," he promised with a smile, heading to the backroom.

Dean retreated to the car, excitement in his veins. He had no idea what tonight would be like. It was strange- just letting things go without any control of it. Despite his excitement, Dean was absolutely terrified.

The cold air cut through the material of his jacket as he walked to the parking lot, spotting his car right away. He slipped in and twisted the heater dial the highest he could, rubbing his numb fingers together as he did so.

He sat there for a moment.

 _Well_ , he told himself,  _go, already._

He didn't.

Dean's heart launched into his throat, and he moved his stiff muscles, forcing his hand to cross his seat belt over his chest and buckle him in.

Step one.

_Now go get Castiel. He's probably waiting. You've been thinking about this nonstop. Just go for it. Just one date. Just one official date and then you'll be done._

Gathering up his courage, Dean drove to the front of the library. Moments later, Castiel walked out, locking the door behind him. He gave Dean a smile before climbing into the car.

"So, where to?" Dean asked. He wondered with a kicking feeling in his gut if Castiel had been serious about hanging out at his place.

He was. "I believe we agreed on my apartment," Castiel replied with a sly smile. Dean's heart flipped in his chest.

_How the hell is he not nervous?_

"Right," Dean spoke, offering up a smile, as well. Castiel gave him directions, but he had already memorized which way to go.

Fifty points on the creepy scale for Dean Winchester.

After a half hour of light conversation and mostly awkward silence, they arrived. Dean followed Castiel out the car and inside the building, feeling lightheaded and a little shocked with what he was bringing himself to do. Before he could even comprehend it all, they were at Castiel's door.

The librarian took out a key from his coat pocket, fitting it into the lock and easing the door open. "Make yourself at home," he spoke as he flicked on the lights, gesturing for Dean to walk in. Upon entering, Dean found that he was rather speechless.

Not only did the apartment look great on the outside, but it looked just as amazing inside. Hardwood paneled the floors of the apartment, a maple color that brightened the room and shone in a just-polished manner. The walls contained a creamy sort of color, and brown furniture sat on a large rug laid about the sitting room. The room was the first thing one would see when visiting, greeting those who walk in with a promise of warmth and comfort.

There was a brown couch placed in front of an old TV (it didn't seem to be used, much), and an old rocking chair sat a distance away, facing the porch screen door, at the moment. Tan curtains bordered either side of the screen door, drawn away and providing a view of the city. Dean walked towards the window, enraptured by the twinkling city lights that framed dark outlines of faraway buildings. The sky was a dark blue, a crescent moon hanging within its vast stretches. There were no stars (as was expected from living in a city), but clouds strewed themselves about, adding to the featureless expanse.

"It's quite the view," Castiel commented from a distance behind. Dean turned around to face the librarian, completely forgetting about his presence for a moment.

Castiel was in a kitchen to the left of the living room. It was conjoined to the room, separated by a countertop and small oak dining table that sat against a wall. There were only two chairs, and Dean suddenly wondered if Castiel didn't have visitors very often.

He smiled, joining Castiel in the kitchen. "Yeah, it's nice," he complimented. "This whole place is nice," Dean added.

There was just something missing, Dean noted. Something every house should have, but that Castiel's didn't. He couldn't put his finger on it.

Castiel gave a smile as he fiddled around with a pot placed over the stove, pouring some liquid into it. "Thank you," he replied. "I am going to be making chicken soup. Will that be fine?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah- sounds good. Do you need any help?"

Castiel shook his head. "It's alright. It will not take very long," he promised. "Feel free to watch some TV. I don't have very many channels, though," he warned with a sheepish smile.

Dean did not go to the living room, though. He sat down on one of the two bar stools placed outside the counter, and he took to watching Castiel work.

The librarian was wearing a beige sweater, today, and he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows as he got to chopping onions and celery, allowing the pot's contents of chicken broth to boil in preparation. Dean's eyes caught the movements of the muscle that made up Castiel's forearms, watching them shift underneath smooth, tanned skin. It was hard to ignore, but he tore his gaze away uselessly, landing it on Castiel's hands, instead.

He had long fingers, Dean noted. Long, strong fingers.

How come Castiel was so tan in winter?

Castiel seemed completely oblivious to Dean's obvious ogling as he prepared the soup. He worked with expertise, and Dean couldn't help but let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Do you cook often?" He asked as Castiel began pouring egg noodles into the pot.

Castiel looked over at Dean, shocked. Then he smiled. "I like to, yes," he answered.

Dean hummed in thought, resting his arms on the counter. "I like it, too. But I'm not too great, honestly. The only things I make that are actually good are hamburgers. Or anything grilled."

Castiel laughed. "That is not so bad. I quite like hamburgers," he informed the blond man.

Dean smiled in response. "I should make them for you, sometime. You'd like them- it's Sam's favorite," Dean babbled on. He couldn't help himself. Castiel just made him so comfortable.

Castiel was the one smiling, now. "I'd like that."

Pretty soon, the soup was ready and Dean was helping Castiel set up the table. The teacher didn't even realize how hungry he was until he was sitting down with a bowl of soup placed in front of him, steam rising from the contents of the bowl. Once Castiel began eating, Dean followed suit.

The soup was actually amazing. It was rich and flavorful and it warmed Dean's stomach and subtly soothed the burning sensation of his stitches. It reminded Dean of the soup Ellen would make when he was sick, and that thought sent a sinking feeling in his gut. Dean savored every spoonful. He was halfway finished when he stopped eating long enough to speak.

"This is great," he complimented. Castiel smiled from across the table.

"It's just a quick recipe I learned," he replied. "I decided you should have something light since you just got out of the hospital."

Dean smiled. "Thanks. I'm fine, though- I promise."

"Well, then, next time I should prepare one of my better recipes for you," Castiel spoke before taking a spoonful from his bowl. Dean observed him carefully.

Would this become a regular thing? Would Dean settle down with Cas and keep going on dates with him?

How long would this last?

Dean forced a smile through his anxiety. "Yeah, Cas. Sounds like a deal."

Castiel smiled from across the table. Dean grew curious.

"What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"You've been calling me Cas since that day in the diner," Castiel informed the blond man with a smile, stirring his soup as he gazed at Dean with an amused glint in his eyes.

Dean blushed. "Oh- uh, sorry. I didn't realize-"

"I like it," Castiel interrupted.

Dean was shocked. "You do?"

"I do."

They resumed eating in silence.

When they finished eating, Castiel offered to put on a movie and Dean accepted, feeling drowsy from the warm meal. The next thing he knew they were both sitting on the couch watching Castiel's old copy of "The Shining" in his VCR player.

The two men sat close to one another on the couch, and the heat of Castiel's leg against Dean's seemed to burn into him, driving him insane. He kept flicking his gaze towards the fortune teller, unable to stop adjusting his position on the couch in order to get closer. Castiel seemed distracted, as well, noticing Dean's advances. His eyes were watching the movie, but they seemed almost glazed- as if they were looking right through the screen. He moved himself so that his arm rested into Dean's, his hand settling on Dean's thigh. Dean tried not to concentrate on it, too much, but that was hard to do with the gentle ministrations Castiel made with his fingertips, sending a burning sensation through Dean's thigh.

Sometime along the second appearance of the creepy ax murdered twin girls, Castiel caught Dean's stare. They gazed at one another for a long while, and Dean felt his breath go short in his throat as he flicked his gaze to Castiel's lips before looking back up.

Thank God Castiel got the message, because the moment he leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean's, the blond man thought he'd explode with anticipation. The dramatic movie music slowly drowned out as Castiel leaned Dean back into the couch, kissing him in a slow and horribly teasing manner. Dean fought to quicken their kissing, having had enough teasing, moving his lips desperately to satisfy his needs. But, soon, he fell into the consistent rhythm of Castiel's practiced, patient kisses.

After an excruciatingly long amount of slow movement, Dean pushed forward, determined to top Castiel and take control of their pace as he leaned the librarian against the cushions, reversing their positions. Castiel went easy, and Dean separated their lips to kiss at his neck, creating bruises that he made sure the librarian wouldn't be able to hide- placing them at the curve of his neck and the angle of his jaw (Castiel had shaved, Dean noticed with a grin).

Dean's hands played with Castiel's sides, roaming up and down and constantly lingering at the hem of his sweater. Castiel writhed and let out encouraging noises beneath him, his long fingers running up Dean's back to tangle in his hair. Dean removed his lips from Castiel's skin, returning them to his inviting lips as he kissed him in every way he knew how. Castiel hummed into Dean's mouth, licking anywhere he could reach as his hands started to slide down, fingers dipping into the groove of Dean's lower back, making their way to Dean's hips where they pressed down.

Dean succumbed, not very surprised to feel the hot outline of Castiel's erection through the layers of their clothes. It pressed against his hip, demanding attention and seeking out Dean's own. Dean swallowed thickly, using all of his willpower not to grind against Castiel then and there. Eventually, the fortune teller impatiently grabbed hold of Dean's wrists, guiding his hands under the hem of his sweater as he parted their lips, giving Dean permission with lust filled cobalt eyes.

Grateful, Dean pursued, sliding his palms against the smooth canvas of Castiel's skin, reaching his hands up to the librarian's chest. The beige sweater went up with Dean's stroke, and he resisted the urge to rip it completely off as he scraped his fingernails lightly against Castiel's ribs, making goosebumps rise on the soft flesh. He would tease Castiel, just as he had been teased, before. Castiel shuddered beneath him, pressing into the touch and kissing Dean far more earnestly.

Almost instinctively, Dean searched for Castiel's nipples, finding them and stimulating them with light rubs from his thumbs, drinking in the enthusiastic noises Castiel gave in return. His fingers flicked across the sensitive stubs, now, scraping them lightly with his nails and teasing the librarian as he milked out moan after moan from his parted lips. Dean kissed at Castiel's neck, leaving his mouth so that the moans were no longer muffled and instead echoed through the living room. He placed kiss after kiss along Castiel's skin, using his teeth to pull away at the collar of his sweater so he could suck along his collarbone. Castiel whimpered at the action, gasping as Dean trailed his tongue as low as he could with the barrier of Castiel's sweater. Warmth buzzed between the two men as they moved in sync, pressing and sliding and kissing to the same tune. It was almost too great to believe.

Searching for more friction against his rapidly growing erection, Dean found Castiel's own, and proceeded to finally grind against him, hesitantly, just a soft push to satisfy himself for the moment. He did not expect the incredibly strong wave of sensation that followed. Both men seemed to feel it, because they both let out gasps and deep moans, arching into one another as all movement stopped for a moment.

Castiel gazed into Dean's eyes, panting as he forced out shaky words.

"Could we move this to the bedroom?" he asked, gasping for breath as his hands latched onto Dean's hips in order to prevent them from moving, again.

Dean nodded, dizzy with the intensity of Castiel's gravelly voice and amorous gaze. He allowed Castiel to grab his hand, leading him to the bedroom with a determined stride, the sound of their long forgotten movie fading away with each step.

When they were in the safety of Castiel's bedroom, the librarian wasted no time dragging Dean to the bed. He sat Dean down and pulled himself onto his lap where they proceeded to kiss, hips grinding against one another freely, now. Castiel pushed against Dean's erection, sliding himself consistently over it and driving out gasps and moans from Dean's own lips, now. The blond man pushed up into Castiel's motions, and he could feel the librarian's hot erection press against his stomach as they met, body to firm body. They kicked off their shoes and rolled off their socks as they kissed, getting comfortable in the change of scenery.

Dean adjusted their position, laying Castiel down beneath him, propping his head on a plush pillow and kissing him deeply all the while. It seemed to be a hundred degrees in the room, and Dean was sweating beneath his jacket and sweater. He was sure Castiel felt the same way, given the beads of perspiration that clung to his pale throat. So Dean's fingers latched onto the hem of Castiel's top, pulling it up and off in one fluid motion, Castiel lifting himself up to aid in the process. He proceeded to shuck off his own jacket, tossing it somewhere and sitting up to remove his top.

Castiel watched from beneath him, his hands flying to Dean's sides as soon as the clothes were removed, eyes roaming over his shirtless self greedily. Dean suddenly felt shy under Castiel's intense gaze, but that feeling disappeared when those blue eyes softened, locking onto Dean's sutured wound.

Fingers fluttered over the scar, so feather light Dean could barely feel them at all- it was almost as if they weren't there in the first place, just pinpricks of tingling sensation. He gazed at Castiel's fingers as they settled there with a light press, and then looked up, meeting the man's stare. They looked at one another in motionless silence before Dean leaned back over the librarian, reaching down to kiss him slow and steady. Castiel's fingers slid to Dean's back, tracing along his spine as he melted into their kiss, returning each one passionately.

Dean's fingers fumbled around with the buckle of Castiel's belt, undoing it before slipping the button of his jeans undone and pulling down at his zipper. The zipping noise seemed so incredibly loud- like glass breaking in a silent room. It contained promises of what was to come. It increased Dean's nervousness and need at the same time.

Practically desperate, now, Dean's fingers hooked underneath the waistband of Castiel's boxers, and he pulled away to look at the blue-eyed man, searching for permission. He received pupil-blown eyes in return, a kiss-swollen lower lip retreating underneath teeth in expectation.

The boxers and jeans were slid off at the same time, Castiel assisting Dean as he lifted his hips and wriggled out of the cumbersome layers that separated them. After tossing the last of Castiel's clothes onto the floor, his hand reached down, finding the hardened flesh and grasping loosely onto it. Precum slicked the purple tip, smothered around from the grinding they had done. It took all of Dean's self control not to run his tongue along Castiel's cock right then and there. He wanted to take it slow- wanted to bring Castiel close to the edge, not have him coming before they got started.

Castiel groaned in frustration, as if reading Dean's thoughts, his hips thrusting once before Dean splayed his palm on Castiel's leg, stilling him from his movements. He pumped Castiel once and hard, drinking in the guttural noise the librarian made, measuring his length before removing his hand (much to the distaste of the man beneath him), and latching his lips onto Castiel's neck.

The fortune teller was panting hard, his hand flying up to Dean's hair where it tugged  _hard_. Dean hummed against Castiel's neck, swirling his tongue around and then biting onto the wet flesh, making Castiel let out a loud moan. The librarian retrieved his hand and covered his mouth as Dean went lower, taking a nipple in his mouth and flicking his tongue across the tip, back and forth, making Castiel's hips snap up as he twisted and squirmed underneath Dean. He moaned what sounded like Dean's name into his hand before removing it, looking down at the teacher with lustful eyes. Dean smiled as he looked back up before tugging Castiel's nipple lightly with his teeth, making the normally composed man lose it.

" _Fuck_ ," he exclaimed, making Dean let out a groan at the unexpected profanity. "God,  _fuck_ , Dean-"

Dean gave Castiel's nipple a flat lick before transitioning to the other one, doing what he had done before. After only a few seconds Castiel was begging Dean to stop.

" _Please_ , no more," Castiel spoke, breathless. "I can't, Dean, I can't," he panted, throwing his head back as Dean's teeth skimmed along the worked flesh. Dean removed himself, reaching up to kiss Castiel, which the librarian returned,  _hard_. Castiel was suddenly pushing Dean back, reaching between them and palming the teacher through his jeans, almost making the arms he used to keep himself up collapse.

" _Nng_ , Cas, fuck," Dean spoke as Castiel blindly fumbled with Dean's jeans, pulling at the belt.

Dean assisted him, and Castiel removed his pants and boxers with speed that Dean deemed impossible. Nevertheless, he leaned down and kissed Castiel, resuming the familiar and calming action to bring him down from all the excitement he now felt. After separating, Dean remembered something.

"Say, Cas, you haven't got any diseases we should discuss, right?" he asked, recalling that he had forgotten a condom.

Castiel's head tilted at the question, eyebrows furrowed as a smile made its way to his lips. He laughed for a moment, a breathless action. He was still panting. "No, I haven't," he spoke, in a sort of surprised manner. Dean shrugged.

"Just checkin'," he mumbled out, kissing at Castiel's collarbone, travelling downwards. "Wanted t'make sure before I…"

His words trailed off on their own as Dean kissed his way down Castiel's stomach, licking and sucking as he went along. Various noises encouraged Dean's action, muscles fluttering beneath his lips as he traveled lower. Castiel was fisting the sheets beneath him, practically heaving as Dean licked a stripe up the underside of Castiel's cock before taking him in.

Castiel let out a chorus of indecipherable gibberish (mainly consisting of broken syllables of Dean's name) as Dean's tongue worked him, finding the outline of a vein and tracing the tip of his tongue along that. His tongue pushed at Castiel's slit, collecting the white substance that sat there, swirling around the engorged tip and making Castiel bring his hand back to his mouth as he  _moaned_. Castiel didn't taste like what Dean expected. For some reason, he thought he'd be sweeter, like his lips had been. He was shocked with the bitter tang of precome and the warm, familiar taste of skin. Dean liked it a lot more than he wanted to admit.

Dean took Castiel in deep, swirling his tongue around the shaft and humming along Castiel's cock every time he moaned, making him feel the vibrations on his member. Castiel gazed down at Dean, and the teacher looked up at him, getting incredibly hot and bothered as he kept up eye contact with Castiel. He suddenly noticed that Castiel was  _fucking playing with his nipples_ as he watched Dean, and the blong man felt as though he'd come right then and there.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean moaned, earning a whimper when he removed his lips, having to force himself not to grind into the bed as he watched the librarian. He put his lips back around him, urging the man to continue playing with himself. Blue eyes looked to be pleading with him, so,  _so_  close to the edge.

Once he had gotten Castiel sufficiently slick, though, he pulled off, earning a complained whine from the librarian that instantly replaced itself with a keening noise when Dean aligned them, grabbing both their cocks in his fist. Dean was full and on edge from all the anticipation and teasing. He needed to feel Castiel against him-  _needed_  to finally be brought to ecstasy.

Castiel's heat felt blissful against Dean's own, and he had to gather himself for a moment, or he'd come right there before they even started. When he composed himself, Dean proceeded to jack them both off, thrusting his hips helplessly in his attempt to come. His body moved of its own accord, hips snapping into his fist, rutting against Castiel's lubed erection. A burning, aching sensation encompassed Dean's wound and he winced, clenching his jaw and fighting back the burning in his eyes at the intensity of it all. He  _needed_ to come. He had to  _right now._

"Dean."

Dean continued.

"Dean," a gravelly voice insisted.

He panted, his fist loosening as he struggled to keep going.

" _Dean_ ," Castiel spoke, a hand grabbing Dean's wrist to stop him. Dean felt enraged-  _he was so close_. He was so close and Castiel had stopped him. He looked into blue eyes, desperate to continue.

Castiel stared at Dean intensely, lips parted and warm breath sliding in and out in heavy gasps. "Let me," Castiel spoke, grip tightening on Dean's wrist.

He panicked. Dean had never let someone take charge, before. He almost told Castiel he was fine- that he could do it for them. But Castiel's gaze was insistent. His grip was strong. And Dean felt his panic settle as he slowly started to give in.

Searching Castiel's eyes, he tightened his lips and nodded, unable to get the words out. No 'thanks' or 'okay'. Just green eyes looking into blue ones.

Smiling reassuringly, if not rather shakily, Castiel removed Dean's hand from between them, then proceeded to ease Dean gently onto his back, settling him into the sink of the mattress and the warmth of the sheets. His muscles gave into the support of the bed, and his wound almost cried out with relief as the burning settled, reduced to an aching pulse that travelled to his throbbing erection. Castiel leaned down, kissing Dean's scar lightly before sliding his lips up, skidding them along Dean's chest and taking an erect nipple into his mouth, tongue playing around with the bud and making Dean let out a loud moan.

" _Fuck_ , Cas- I need, I need-"

Castiel scraped his teeth against the sensitive flesh before he removed his lips, finger working on Dean's other nipple as he gave the blond man a kiss. "I know," he murmured. "I know." Another kiss, then Castiel's hand was sliding down, searching blindly for Dean's erection and lining it up against Castiel's before taking them both in his hand. Castiel let out an involuntary groan before pumping them fast and hard, kissing Dean's neck and biting into it to stifle his moans. Dean's nails dug into the skin of Castiel's back, and now it was his turn to spit out gibberish.

"Fu- yeah, that, like that," he groaned, grasping onto Castiel's hair and encouraging his licks and kisses. " _Cas_."

"Dean- I, I'm," Castiel managed to bite out, panting and moving his fist faster, now, precome oozing out from both their members and slicking his hand, creating obscene noises. "Can't hold back."

Dean's hands moved to Castiel's face, holding him and guiding their lips together. He parted them, raking Castiel's sweat soaked hair from his forehead with shaky fingers. "It's okay," he gasped out. Castiel looked desperately into Dean's eyes, body shuddering as he suppressed his moans. "Let it out, come for me."

Just like that, Castiel came, shooting out his load onto Dean's belly in a warm, sticky mess. He heaved from above Dean, and the motion of his hand stuttered for a moment before he forced himself up higher with a shaky arm, determined to finish Dean, as well.

"Fuck, Cas, I can't," Dean groaned out, hands falling from Castiel now to grip at the sheets. Castiel's hand returned their previous rhythm, whipping along both their members with a fast stride. Dean bit onto his tongue.

"Come on, Dean," Castiel encouraged. He was shaking from exhaustion, his oversensitive member beginning to soften against Dean's as he groaned with discomfort. He kept it up, though, willing Dean closer and closer to the edge.

" _Cas_ -"

"Fuck into my hand, Dean," Castiel growled out, reaching down to lick at the shell of Dean's ear, pulling it between his teeth, making Dean cry out. "Come in my hand," his deep voice vibrated, making Dean shudder before whiting out.

It had come like a punch in the gut, and suddenly Dean was settling down from his high, quivering in Castiel's grip and letting out gasping noises at the intense sensation.

Castiel removed his own member from his fist, milking Dean through his orgasm and forcing out the last of his come until Dean let out incoherent moans begging for him to stop. He couldn't take it anymore- his body was buzzing and convulsing, and warmth trickled into his toes and fingertips, making his skin rise with goosebumps.

"Jesus Christ," Dean gasped out as Castiel's warm hand removed itself from his cock. The blond man struggled to catch his breath, hand flying to his chest where it settled over his beating heart. He could feel movement on the mattress and then something like tissue cleaning him up. His bones felt like jell-o, and Dean knew he couldn't get up even if he tried. Sleepiness came over him like a fog, and Dean tried to fight it. He couldn't fall asleep in Castiel's bed, that would be too much. It would-

"Go to sleep, Dean," Castiel's voice purred from somewhere around him. Dean blinked, his eyelids drooping closed as he mumbled something he forgot as soon as it left his lips.

He could hear Castiel's chuckle echo through his mind as he fell asleep.

* * *

When Dean woke up, it was to warmth and a weight across his chest. Consciousness came slowly to him- sort of like when he woke up in the hospital, but a lot less painful, and with a whole lot more bliss. Breathing breached his hearing- breathing that wasn't his own.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Dean opened his eyes, greeted with the fresh presence of morning light. An arm was draped across his chest, and when he looked to his right he was presented with the sleeping form of Castiel.

Suddenly, the events of last night came pouring into Dean's memory.

Sunlight bathed Castiel's body- naked, mind the sheets that covered the lower region of his slim form. Castiel was sleeping peacefully, chest rising with each intake of breath and falling slowly with every exhale. Dean fought back his panic as he carefully removed Castiel's arm, sitting up in bed and backing away slightly. He resisted the urge to lie back down and mold himself into the heated outline of Castiel's body.

Too close. Dean had gotten too close. He wasn't supposed to stay the night-  _he wasn't supposed to feel like this_. These feelings were supposed to go away after they finally slept together. If anything, though, they only intensified.

Shocked with his own thoughts, Dean eased himself out of the bed, taking to searching for his clothes where they laid messily strewn across the ground. Once he had gotten all his belongings, he risked one last look at the sleeping man.

Castiel looked so vulnerable when he was asleep. It was nothing like the confident man that Dean had grown to know. He just laid there- naked and snoozing and susceptible to anything. Feeling his heart do a flip, Dean reached over and drew up the covers, gazing at Castiel for a long moment before walking out the room. He would not do this, again.

He couldn't return.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sam was always there for Dean. Through any sort of trouble, Dean's little brother would always shine through with a word of advice and a cup of crappy cocoa.

That was why the Saturday Dean woke up in Castiel's bed, he left and drove straight to his brother's house, a good few miles outside of Chicago. Sam and Jess lived in a cozy condo, and Dean had to admit he was more than jealous of it, given his observations from the few times he had visited them. It was a kind of place he'd like to own, someday. Remote, quiet, and safe. It always made him feel inadequate when they'd visit his tiny apartment for dinners.

Jess was asleep, worn out from her night shift at the local hospital. She worked as a nurse there, and Dean wondered how his brother and the blond girl could ever get time together. Their schedules completely conflicted, what with Sam spending most of his afternoons working. It gave the two brothers some quality time to spend, though.

Sam was currently in the kitchen, cooking some scrambled eggs for the both of them. The sizzling sound and smell permeated to the attached dining room, and Dean inwardly cringed. He didn't like Sam's eggs, most of the time. They were usually too dry and had too much pepper on them. But he would always eat them anyways, even throwing in a few compliments when the day was going particularly well.

Today was not one of those days.

Dean took a mindless sip from his hot chocolate, forgetting to blow and scorching his tongue and throat. He felt the burning sensation travel down his chest and pool in his belly, summoning a low ache in his suture. After placing down his mug, Dean gazed at the wooden table he sat at, letting a finger trail over the grain patterns. There were a few scratches, the edge of the tables well worn. It had definitely seen better days. The table was used- probably Jessica's, since Sam and Dean never owned something like this.

In fact, they didn't own much, at all.

Upon arriving to the dining room, Sam picked up a book from the table, tossing it onto a nearby vacant chair. Suddenly, a plate of eggs was placed in front of Dean, along with a glass of orange juice. Dean knew that Sam was still cautious with Dean's after-surgery diet. The eggs were lighter, and there weren't many of them. No cheese or anything vegetables accompanied the yellow mass. Sam had only made this for him because he knew something was wrong, given Dean's unusual silence and surprise visit. He sort of felt guilty for not texting a warning, but his mind hadn't been in the right place at the time, and he figured Sam didn't mind much.

"Thanks," Dean muttered, picking up his fork and pushing around the eggs.

Sam sat down in front of him with his own plate. "No problem."

They ate quietly for a moment.

"So, you gonna tell me what's bugging you?" Sam asked, taking a sip from his juice. Dean observed his brother for a moment before sighing.

"Alright, well, I'm just gonna be really honest with you, okay?" he started.

Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised with Dean's easy compliance. "Okay?"

"And you gotta promise not to make any dumb and/or unnecessary comments."

Sam smiled, amused. "What are-"

"There's a guy," Dean interrupted, wanting to get this over with.

Raised eyebrows. Sam's fork paused in his plate. Eggs slipped off the prongs. "Really?"

Deep breath. "Really."

"Dean, that's great! Like, an actual rela-"

The blond man cut him off there. "Yeah- well, I don't know." He shrugged.

Sam's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean you don't know?"

Dean sighed. "I just don't. I don't know where it's going. And I kinda," Dean trailed off.

Sam grew cautious. "You kinda what?" he asked, carefully.

Dean shifted his eggs around before taking a bite. He spoke around the mouthful. "I kinda left him in bed this morning."

It was silent. Sam's jaw had dropped. "Dean, you didn't."

No response.

"Wha- why?" Sam asked. "Do you not like him?"

"I  _do_  like him. I just freaked out or something, I dunno," Dean replied, frustrated.

"Dude, you gotta stop doing this to yourself," Sam chastised.

Another sigh. "I know."

"I mean, I understand how it must be for you. With, well," Sam stopped. An awkward pause. "But you shouldn't keep letting that mess up your life forever, y'know?"

Dean shook his head. "I just… I can't."

It was silent.

"Well, do I know this guy?" Sam asked, hoping to keep the conversation alive. It was rare when they'd actually discuss personal things in detail.

Dean blushed. "Uhm, you've met him."

Sam's eyebrows rose in disbelief. Dean averted his gaze to his breakfast once more. "Really? Who is it?"

"Remember how I told you not to make unnecessary comments?" Dean asked, looking up at his little brother. Sam nodded. "Okay, well keep that in mind."

"Dean-"

"No laughing," Dean interrupted, pointing his fork at his brother in a rather threatening fashion.

"I wouldn't," Sam replied, honesty in his eyes. He set his utensil down, giving Dean his full attention as he folded his hands on the table.

Dean eyed the younger Winchester, returning his fork to his plate where he began to fiddle even more with his eggs. "You remember the carnival? Back in November?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yes…."

Dean paused, swallowing back a lump in his throat. Must be the dry as fuck eggs. Dean could feel his face heat up as he prepared himself for what he was about to reveal. "Uhm… so you remember the guy who did the fortune telling crap?"

"Dean," Sam spoke, smiling in a way that promised laughing. "You're joking, right?"

Dean shrugged as he averted his gaze elsewhere, too embarrassed to look at his brother, now. "Uhm- no?"

"Holy crap."

"Yeah."

It was silent.

Then Sam spoke.

"So did you guys actually do the palm reading thing when we were there?"

"Sam-" Dean warned.

"I mean, that  _would_  explain why you took so long."

"Fuck you."

Sam laughed, and Dean glared. "I'm sorry- I just, it was unexpected?" Sam tried.

Dean continued to glare. "We didn't fuck in the tent, Sam." He was feeling rather done with this conversation.

Sam was still controlling his laughter. "Yeah- yeah, I know, I was just messing with you." His giggles subsided. "I'm sorry- I'm done, I promise."

Dean dropped his fork onto his plate, pushing it away grumpily. "Yeah, whatever," he mumbled. This had been a mistake. Dean just wanted to go home and sleep away his embarrassment. He kept that in mind as he pushed his chair back and stood up.

"Wait- Dean, don't go," Sam spoke up, standing. "Hey- look, I'm sorry. I was just joking. Please stay."

Dean's jaw stiffened and he paused. He  _did_  need to talk about this, or else it would eat at him forever. Sam was the only one Dean could talk to, and he knew that. He took a deep breath before he nodded and sat down. "I shouldn't have told you."

Sam was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry- honestly. I was just messing around," Sam explained. It was quiet. "So how did you see him, again? Did you go back to the carnival?"

Dean shook his head. "He works at that new library I go to. I bumped into him there a while back."

Sam looked shocked. "Wow."

"I know."

"How long's a while back?"

Dean chewed on his lower lip. "About two weeks ago, almost."

"On Tuesday? So was that why you went home so late the other week?" Sam asked, connecting the dots.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Cas and I went out for dinner that night. Then I took him home," Dean explained, blushing when Sam smiled at Castiel's nickname.

"Wow."

Dean didn't know what to say. It seemed as if Sam was still trying to find words, himself. So he downed a few more eggs, appreciating solid food while he could, even if it scratched at his throat and fell stubbornly into his stomach.

"He'll be good for you, Dean," Sam spoke, looking into his brother's eyes, now. "He was really kind. And I haven't seen you actually happy in a long time."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, S-"

"No. You're not. I think… I think you should give him a chance. More than just two dates. See what happens," Sam suggested. "It must mean something if you decided to go out with him more than once."

Dean didn't have a response to that. Luckily, Jessica strutted into the kitchen, clad in a nightgown.

"Morning, Dean," she greeted with a smile, reaching over to give Sam a kiss before she walked to the kitchen. Dean returned the greeting. Suddenly, Jessica sniffed the air. "Sam, did you make eggs?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Oh, sweetie," Jessica chastised, a teasing look on her face "Your brother doesn't need another hospital visit."

Sam's face was priceless, and Dean laughed harder than he had in a long time.

* * *

When Dean arrived back at his apartment, he searched through his desk drawer for Castiel's number. He had kept it, too nervous to save it to his phone and make whatever was going on between them official. Commitment was always Dean's problem.

This was the final step:

Calling back after sex.

Dean's fingers messed with the paper, sliding his thumb over Castiel's writing- inspecting the elegant scrawl of numbers until he basically memorized them.

He dialed the numbers. Deleted them. Dialed them again. His thumb hit the call button.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring._

His heart was pounding like crazy, and the moment he decided to hang up, Castiel answered.

"Hello?" his voice echoed through into Dean's ear, stopping Dean from his movements.

"Hey- it's me, Dean," he replied.

Castiel's voice was hesitant, now. "Dean. You left this morning," Castiel responded, cutting right to the chase.

Dean swallowed. He was panicking. "Yeah- I, uh, I had to deal with something." It was technically true, if by something Dean meant a nervous breakdown. "Sorry."

Castiel seemed to relax, now. "It's fine," he replied. Awkward silence. "Dean, are you-"

But Dean had already started talking.

"Cas, can I tell you something?" he suddenly blurted out. Silence.

"Yes, of course."

_I really like you._

_I want this to be a regular thing._

_Can we go out, again?_

_I'm sorry for being a dick, please don't push me away._

"Uhm. I, well-"

"Would you like to go out again?" Castiel interrupted, a hint of a smile in his voice. Dean was flustered.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would. Uh- Friday, then?" Dean asked. He knew it was soon, but he couldn't help but try.

"Sadly, I will be busy on Friday," Castiel informed, in an apologetic manner. "I'm free for Saturday, though," he complied.

Dean nodded, although Castiel couldn't see it. He began pacing. "Oh- it's fine, that's good."

Dean's palms were getting sweaty and his heart was racing. He absorbed the gravelly rumble of Castiel's voice in his ear. "Saturday it is, then."

Dean smiled. He felt hopeful, so he decided to let his completely idiotic feelings take over. "And the library in between?" he suggested.

Castiel laughed- a bright, contagious sound. "Yes, and the library in between."

"Okay," Dean replied, his chest deflating with relief. He couldn't stop smiling.

"Okay," Castiel teased mockingly. "Uhm, I'll text you?" the librarian asked. Now he was the one who sounded shy.

Dean's smile widened. "Yeah, sure."

"Alright. I'll talk to you later, Dean," Castiel spoke.

Dean nodded again. "Bye."

The call dropped, and Dean felt a surge of energy in his chest rise up and burst out of him in the form of a laugh. He sat down on his bed, legs wobbly from his anxiety and fervent pacing. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, his stomach fluttering restlessly.

It was an amazing feeling. A scary, amazing feeling. He loved it.

For the first time in a long time, things were going well. And, for once, Dean would embrace it instead of pushing it away.

 


	7. Chapter 7

On Wednesday Dean managed to find time to visit the library. His week had been absolutely chaotic. He had spent most of his time with Sam, dealing with the aftermath of his hospitalization and also working with his credit company. Eventually, the bill was cleared off and the misunderstanding was behind him. As soon as that had been done, though, Sam went straight to pushing Dean into apartment searching.

It was a mess. The brothers spent most of their free time browsing rentals, and none of them seemed to be close enough to the school  _and_  affordable at the same time. Dean was being forced into debating on the possibility of having to sell the Impala in order to put aside extra money for a new place.

He did not want that to happen.

There were roommate offers. Sam encouraged Dean into this particular choice, because he wanted nothing more than for Dean to get out and meet new people. But Dean found the whole situation odd. Why would he want to live with someone he never met?

"Dean, you could meet them  _beforehand_ ," Sam had argued with an eye roll. "Plenty of people have roommates, especially in the city. Could you at least give it a shot?"

When Dean had refused, Sam looked ready to beat him over the head with a shovel. Dean didn't blame him. They had been at this for what felt like ages. Sam had been a big help, but honestly Dean was thinking he should just give up and settle with his crappy apartment. Sure, it was a shitty place. But it was his home. And he had everything he needed in order to get by.

Dean was only keeping this up for Sammy. The younger Winchester had done extensive house-searching (earning himself a bunch of cheesy "House Hunters" lines from Dean), and had compiled up a stack of papers with the best apartment options he could find.

And that's why Dean was currently sitting at the library, mulling over said papers and trying not to grow a bunch of gray hairs. This whole thing was stressing him out. But he knew where he lived wasn't safe. He needed out.

"If you keep making that face it will get stuck like that," a voice interrupted him, shocking Dean from his immense concentration. To be fair, he had been giving the papers particularly menacing glares. He looked up to find Castiel standing over him, two blue mugs in his hands.

Dean smiled. "Hey, Cas," he greeted the librarian.

Castiel returned the smile. "That's better," he complimented, placing one of the mugs in front of Dean. "I figured you might want some coffee," he offered, sitting down in an empty seat at Dean's table.

Dean's fingers cradled the mug, twining through the handle. "You really are a psychic," he replied, an amused smirk taking place on his lips. Castiel smiled into his own mug as he took a small sip. Dean realized the library was mostly empty. How long had he been here?

Just as he was about to ask, Castiel spoke.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking at Dean's face rather than the papers sprawled rather ungracefully on the table. Dean raised an eyebrow, wondering how Castiel could tell just by observing Dean. Maybe it was the look he'd been giving the papers.

"Ah- nothin', really. Just," Dean picked up one of the sheets, "Sam wants me to look for a new apartment," Dean explained. "He's kinda been freaked after what happened."

Castiel nodded in an understanding way. "He has reason to be. I must say I agree with him."

Dean frowned. "Yeah, well, it's just been a pain in the ass," Dean complained. "So far there hasn't been any luck."

Castiel hummed in acknowledgement, holding his mug in front of him. He seemed to be deep in thought.

Deciding not to disturb him, Dean went back to looking through his papers, performing calculations and working on budgeting. He didn't even notice when Castiel left, taking Dean's drained coffee mug with him.

Pretty soon the clock ticked to nine, and Dean had gathered up his things to head on home. Castiel stopped him on his way to the door.

"Dean," he called out. He was heading towards him, and he smiled when he garnered the blonde's attention.

Dean returned the grin, turning to face the librarian. "Hey, what's up?"

Castiel seemed hesitant, but he spoke up. He tended to be quite honestly-spoken, Dean noticed. There wasn't much beating around the bush with him. "About finding an apartment," he began, fixing his eyes with Dean's. "My place- it's a two bedroom and bath. If you would like to room with me," Castiel informed him, shrugging, "well- I'd just like you to know it's an option."

Dean was taken aback. He was pretty sure his heart had stopped functioning, because it suddenly kick started- as if it were making up for beats it'd missed. Dean licked his lips, averting his eyes. "I dunno, Cas-"

"If you don't want to, that's fine. But I assure you it's merely for rental purposes," Castiel added with an amused smirk. "My previous roommate moved out."

Dean's wariness suddenly lifted, if only slightly. "Uhm- I'll think about it," he promised, adding a smile for further measures. Castiel brightened.

"Alright. Well, just let me know by the end of this month," Castiel instructed.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, man."

He was freaking out.

* * *

When Friday came, Castiel seemed distant. At first, Dean figured he was busy- that he was just tired from work. He did work all day, after all.

But it was more than that.

The day before, Castiel had been acting strange. He hid it behind smiles and conversations, but Dean could tell something was off.

Today he didn't even notice as Dean walked into the library- didn't even search for him or sit down and chat with him like he normally did when he'd pass close enough by to get away with it. So, when he found the time, Dean went out to grab coffee and a pastry from a nearby Starbucks, then brought it over to the library, sneaking into the backroom where Castiel was reading a book during his break.

The librarian seemed stressed- Dean could tell, he knew what it looked like.

Dean placed the food and drink in front of Castiel, giving a smile when the fortune teller looked up in a shocked manner.

"Dean," he spoke. "I didn't know-"

"You alright?" Dean asked, taking a seat, sitting reversed in his chair. Castiel's tired eyes rolled from Dean to the coffee and pastry- as if he had just collected their existence. "Those are for you, by the way," Dean clarified.

Castiel smiled warmly, sending Dean's stomach into an acrobatic show of flips. "Yes, I'm fine," he answered, reaching out to cradle the paper cup in his hands. "Thank you."

Dean shrugged, propping his elbows on the back of his chair. "You seem upset," he noted. Dean normally didn't delve into people's personal problems (unless it was Sammy's). This felt weird-  _new_. He supposed everything to do with Castiel was fairly new to him, though.

Castiel sighed, looking away from Dean. "I'd rather not speak of it," he admitted. Dean was shocked. Castiel was normally so open.

Deciding not to push him, Dean gave an easy smile. "How about we talk about Saturday, then?" he suggested, earning a bright grin from Castiel.

"I'd like that," he admitted, straightening up, now.

Dean felt a kick in his gut, happy he could cheer up Castiel. "Cool. Well, I was thinking we could catch a movie? Over at the theater close to your apartment."

Castiel nodded, seeming happy about the idea. Dean felt excited with the fact that he could change Castiel's mood, even just for the moment. "That would be nice," Castiel replied.

So they planned out their night. After deciding that all the movies currently in the theater were equally shitty, they agreed to show up at a random time and pick whatever was playing soonest. As they talked they split Castiel's pastry, their conversation straying off to other topics, such as how their day went and what they were up to. Castiel did not bring up Dean's apartment situation, and he was grateful for that. It was nice just chatting with Castiel, and when the librarian had to leave Dean found himself thoroughly disappointed.

"I'll meet you at the movies, then. Ten?" Castiel asked, picking up his trash.

Dean nodded, smiling. "Ten."

Castiel returned the smile, joining Dean as they walked out the room. "Alright. I am actually leaving, now- I've got something to take care of," Castiel informed the blond. Dean was curious, but he refrained from asking questions.

"Okay. Take care, Cas," Dean spoke, giving him a pat on the arm.

"I'll see you later. Thanks for," Castiel trailed off. Dean smiled, giving a nod of understanding.

"No problem."

Dean would do anything to keep that smile on Castiel's face.

* * *

It took all of Dean's willpower not to text Castiel that Friday. He wanted desperately to know what the librarian was up to (it had to be related to why he seemed to upset, and why he had left early), but he figured if it was any of his business Castiel would've informed him.

Sometimes he wished he had the same freaky-psychic abilities as Castiel. And his way with words. It seemed like those traits could be so useful, at times.

He never really needed it, before. Castiel wasn't like him. He didn't hide things. He didn't stray away from questions. He was honest and straightforward. He was the only person Dean knew who didn't use bullshit to mask what he truly felt.

And the sense of security Castiel had displayed between them… it was strange. Dean didn't like it- not one bit.

Then he realized how attached he was getting, and decided to focus on something else to clear his mind.

So that's how Dean ended up calling his brother that Friday night, informing him of Castiel's offer.

Sam, of course, was more than enthusiastic.

"That's great, Dean! It actually works out perfectly! Is it close to the school?" he asked.

Dean worked his lower lip. "Closer than my apartment, actually," he replied.

Sam was astounded. "Then what are you waiting for? Say yes! This is exactly what we've been looking for!"

"Sam, it's not that easy," Dean replied.

"Well, what's so difficult about it?"

Dean blushed, trying to find a way to word what he was thinking. "Well… I mean, Cas and I- we've sorta got a thing going on. I feel like this is too much commitment too soon."

Dean could practically hear Sam's bitchface. "Are you serious? Dean- that's not what this is about. He's helping you out- and I'm sure it'll help him pay the rent, too." At Dean's silence, Sam continued. "I doubt this means anything else, you're looking in way too deep."

Dean tried to tame his heart as he paced. "I barely know him," he protested, weakly. He just felt like this whole thing was a bad idea.

"Better than rooming with some person you've never met," Sam countered, using Dean's previous argument against him. Dean was silent for a few moments. "Hey, I've gotta go," Sam suddenly spoke. "Just, look, give it a good thought, okay?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah. Alright."

"Take care."

"You, too."

The phone clicked as Sammy hung up.

* * *

When Saturday night arrived, Dean had pushed away thoughts of apartments and commitment to the furthest depths of his mind. Instead, he focused on Castiel- on the smile that lit his face as Dean approached him outside the cinema. He focused on their subtle argument over which movie to watch, then over who got to pay (Castiel ended up shoving his credit card through the ticket slot when Dean had been fumbling through his wallet. Later, for revenge, Dean bought them popcorn and drinks as payback). And, he focused on the way Castiel's hand felt in his own- soft and warm- on how Castiel would unconsciously rub his thumb in circles on the outside of Dean's hand as he paid attention to the movie. He focused on how Castiel had rubbed that spot so much that Dean had to stop his involuntary movement with his own finger, running it down Castiel's own and adjusting their position so it'd be more comfortable, his skin sore in the spot Castiel's thumb had been. He noticed how during suspenseful moments Castiel's hand would seize- all movements stopping as he engrossed himself with the film, blue eyes transfixed on whatever grabbed his interest.

Dean was so transfixed on Castiel, he didn't even realize he had no idea what the movie was about. It seemed like a cheesy horror film or something.

After a while, Dean gave up trying to figure out the plot. He hadn't been paying attention for the first thirty minutes, so it was too late to start. He ended up just returning his focus onto Castiel, smiling slightly at the way he seemed so innocent- big blue eyes glued to the screen.

Sometime during the middle of the movie, Dean lifted their entwined hands to his lips, placing a kiss on Castiel's and successfully grabbing the librarian's attention. Castiel's blue eyes averted to Dean, now, and he gave a smile, leaning over to plant a kiss on Dean's lips. Dean leaned into it, looking to advance it before a few grumbled complaints sounded behind him. So he returned their hands to the armrest, shying away and focusing on the screen, although he looked straight through it.

Castiel, though, was not so easily deterred. His hand removed itself from Dean's, and instead found a place on Dean's knee, where it then began to rub soothingly. Dean swallowed, completely caught up with the simple gesture as his eyes averted to Castiel's hand, watching its every move. Castiel's fingers trailed to Dean's inner thigh, tracing along the seam of his jeans and then back up, finger pressing in with just enough pressure to make Dean blush horribly, his hand clenching onto the armrest. This pursued for what felt like an agonizingly long time before the librarian began massaging his fingers into Dean's thigh, straying agonizingly close to his crotch but never quite making it. It wasn't long before Dean was squirming in his seat, sporting a raging hard on. Castiel knew what he was doing, a smug smile lifting the corner of his lips when he caught Dean shifting about.

Castiel's hand finally placed itself onto Dean's crotch- cupping him before giving a slight squeeze, fingers falling deep between Dean's legs, brushing against his balls and sparking hundreds of nerves. Dean had to bite on the inside of his cheeks to keep from making a noise. He resisted the urge to cross his legs as Castiel adjusted him through his jeans, slowly moving his hand up and down along his shaft. Dean's body felt like it was on fire, and his heart was beating so loud he was sure the theater could hear it. He prayed nobody knew what they were up to.

Dean was biting hard on his lower lip, now, and he let out a grunt as Castiel's finger traced over the head of Dean's cock, pressing into it and bluntly tracing the slit through the fabric, smearing the precum that was no doubt gathering there. He continued to tease along the tip, giving the head a slight squeeze between his fingers. If Castiel kept this up, Dean would fucking come in his jeans right then and there.

"Cas," Dean whispered in warning, unable to still Castiel's hand despite himself. He was shaking, his legs squeezed together and fingers gripping onto the armrests as Castiel fondled his balls.

Suddenly, Castiel's hand removed itself, returning to Dean's thigh where he traced what Dean recognized as letters. He managed to clear his head enough to focus on what Castiel was writing. It ended up spelling out "bathroom?".

Nodding, Dean got up, movie and popcorn forgotten. He took Castiel's hand, leading him out the movie theater and to the nearest men's room, hoping nobody could detect the bulge in his jeans. The theater was deserted, the sounds of various movies echoing in the hall. He saw one janitor sweeping up the hall on their far side. They slipped undetected into the restroom.

Luckily for them, it was empty. It was the middle of the last premieres of the night, so Dean knew it was very likely they wouldn't be interrupted.

Castiel dragged Dean into the closest (clean) stall, practically hauling him in as he kissed him, taking his face in his hands as Dean fumbled blindly with the lock, sliding it into place. Dean pushed into Castiel's lips, allowing him to taste how raw it now was from when he had bit hard onto it to stifle his moans. He wanted Castiel to know how crazy he made him. He wanted Castiel  _now._

Castiel licked at Dean's lip, soothing it of its swollen state and kissing him sweetly- greedily. His hands settled on Dean's hips, fingers hooking through the belt loops of Dean's jeans.

With a muffled groan, Dean pushed into Castiel, his erection throbbing with need as it made contact with Castiel's hip. He was surprised to find Castiel's own erection against him, slightly flattered that just groping Dean in a movie theater was enough to get Castiel hard.

"You're fucking crazy," Dean spoke into Castiel's mouth before he continued kissing him. "We could've gotten caught."

Castiel laughed into Dean's mouth. His voice was thick with lust when he spoke. "Couldn't help myself," he admitted. "Been thinking about this all week. I've been thinking about you," he revealed with a moan when Dean's hands grasped onto Castiel's ass, pulling him closer so their hips bumped, massaging his fingers into him.

" _Cas_ ," Dean groaned when Castiel hissed with pleasure. He wanted him. He wanted him so bad.

Separating their messy kisses, Castiel gazed into Dean's eyes as his hand fumbled down, fingers latching onto Dean's belt. "I want to suck your cock," he breathed out, hot breaths settling onto Dean's chin. His face was flushed- pupils blown and lips reddened.

Dean felt incredibly dizzy, and all he could manage to do was nod, trying to keep a calm demeanor although his hard on got impossibly harder. And, just like that, Castiel gave Dean one more kiss before dropping onto his knees.

Dean had to brace himself, hands splayed on either side of the stall in order to keep steady. Castiel's fingers worked at his belt, unbuckling it and placing kisses on the sliver of skin that exposed itself between the waist of Dean's jeans and the hem of his shirt, making Dean's stomach flip nervously. The next thing he knew, Castiel had unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, shoving them (along with his boxers) down to his ankles. Wasting no time, Castiel grasped Dean's shaft before taking him in.

It was blissful. The warm, wet heat that engulfed him seemed almost too perfect after the incredible tease he had been through, and Dean had to bite on his cheeks as he tried not to focus too hard on the silky texture of Castiel's tongue on the underside of his cock, pushing into Dean and driving him mad.

" _Fuck_ , Cas-" Dean choked out as Castiel swirled his tongue along the head of Dean's cock, tongue digging hard into his slit, earning a buck of Dean's hips. Castiel let Dean's cock sink further into his mouth with the movement, sucking and then swirling his tongue along the length before pulling off slowly, teeth scraping lightly when his lips reached just underneath the tip. Castiel's hands were gripped onto Dean's thighs, and then reached up to grab his ass, exploring and running his fingers along the skin there, dipping in teasingly, making Dean let out a shocked noise.

Castiel looked up at Dean, bright blue eyes connecting with Dean's as he worked him member, bringing him in deeper-

" _God_ ," Dean gasped out. "Fuck's sake- fucking," he cursed.

Dean's hands dropped from the stalls, flailing for a moment before running through Castiel's hair, driving a content sound from the man. He ran his fingers through Castiel's dark locks in a soothing way, whispering compliments as he tried so hard not to come too soon. Dean swallowed, his erection throbbing as Castiel took him in deep and fast before returning to the head, sucking and swirling his tongue around it as his hand pumped Dean fast, lubed with spit and precome.

He could feel the buzzing within him build up in the pit of his belly, collecting at his groin. "Cas- I don't think I'm," Dean broke off with a gasp when Castiel hummed along his cock, his deep voice echoing through his cock. Dean felt a pull in his gut. "Cas-  _Cas_ , pull away. I'm-"

Castiel didn't pull away, though, and Dean came with a cry muffled into his hand as Castiel swallowed every bit he could, licking Dean's member clean of drops that escaped, letting out a groan, himself.

"Fuck," Dean gasped out once he collected himself. He was panting, and all he wanted to do was kiss Castiel and give him the blowjob of a lifetime. Castiel stood up with a lazy grin, and Dean pulled him into a kiss. "Your turn," he breathed out, tasting himself on Castiel's tongue. When he pulled away, he found a sheepish look on Castiel's face.

"I- uhm, took care of myself," he spoke, and Dean glanced down to see Castiel's own come coating his hand, his jeans messily zipped but still unbuttoned.

Dean let out a shocked laugh. "Damn," he exclaimed, impressed but slightly disappointed. He gave Castiel another kiss before parting their lips, placing a soft kiss on Castiel's jaw. "Raincheck, then?" he asked before returning to kiss his lips.

Castiel smiled into their kisses. "Raincheck," he agreed.

They shuffled out of the small stall, making their way to the sinks to wash and compose themselves. After cleaning themselves up, Dean checked his watch.

"We've still got a half hour left of that movie," he noted. Castiel pouted slightly.

"Shame. I actually quite enjoyed it," he spoke, earning a laugh from Dean.

"You wanna finish it?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Castiel adjusted his green top. "I've gotten a sudden craving for frozen yogurt," he murmured, almost to himself.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "It's eighteen degrees outside."

"That does not affect the yogurt."

Chuckling, Dean shook his head. "Alright. A frozen yogurt parlor it is."

Castiel smiled happily, and Dean suddenly spoke up. "I'm paying," he interjected when Castiel had opened his mouth to speak. Castiel's smile twisted into a frown and glare, and Dean laughed, taking his hand and leading him to the Impala.

After scavenging for an open frozen yogurt shop, they eventually found one, and proceeded to eat ice cream at twelve in the morning, on one of the most god forsaken coldest nights of Dean's life.

He had never had a better night.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was, quote, "progressing amazingly" when he went for his check-up at the hospital. Despite his earlier-than-recommended release and his slight rebellion towards his doctor's orders, Dean was doing well. The doctor declared it a miracle, but was nonetheless delighted with his progress.

He did strain his suture, though, so it was taking a little longer to heal over completely. Sam, who had tagged along, snorted and gave Dean a look when the doctor warned him not to perform anymore "strenuous activity". Dean tried not to blush.

Once he was completely stable- which the doctor predicted to be another week- they'd be able to remove his stitches, and then this whole thing would be in the past.

The best news (well, to Dean, at least) was that he was back on solid food. He could eat whatever he wanted without worrying, although the doctor did tell him to take it easy and not eat anything that might upset his stomach. Dean basically spaced out through the lecture as he thought of Ellen's steak burgers, and how badly he wanted to be back in Lawrence to have one.

After the check up was over Sam and Dean headed off to a nearby diner, where Dean ordered the greasiest burger he could find. It wasn't Ellen's burgers, but it was good enough. When their food arrived and they were settled, Sam spoke up.

"So," he began, "have you given Castiel an answer, yet?"

His appetite dissipated, if only barely, and Dean chose to glare at the collection of leaves on Sam's plate. "I don't know, man. I just don't think it's a good idea."

Sam seemed confused, as usual. As if the last hundred times they had this conversation didn't stick in his head. "Why?" he asked, green eyes fixated on his older brother.

Dean shrugged. He might as well tell Sammy the truth if he wanted to get him off his back. "It's just a gut feeling. I don't think it's something I should do."

Sam leaned forward, growing serious. "Dean, it's affordable. It's close to your school," Sam listed, counting the benefits on his fingers. "It's in a nice area, Castiel is a nice guy," he continued. When Dean was about to speak, he raised a finger to silence him. " _And_  there's plenty of room. If you and Cas were to not work out, then it's not like you'd see much of each other, anyways. You said he works late, right?"

Dean pursed his lips, then nodded. "Until nine."

"Exactly my point. What are you so afraid of?"

Dean's heart seized but he offered up a scoff. "I'm not afraid of anything," he murmured before taking an aggressive bite of his burger.

Sam raised an eyebrow in a challenging fashion. "Then prove it."

* * *

The thing was, Dean didn't think he could.

The month was finally drawing to close. Dean cursed his luck- he just  _had_  to have had the shortest month of the year to make one of the biggest decisions of his life.

Castiel had been very nice about it. On days when Dean would visit the library (which were admittedly getting fewer, since Dean tended to avoid his problems as much as he could), Castiel would not mention the apartment. They just talked and caught up, and often went for coffee when Castiel was on his break.

One afternoon, when Dean had the balls to visit (it was only a few days until the end of the month, and he was shocked he could even manage to face Castiel), another man visited the librarian.

Dean had been working at his usual table, Castiel sitting with him and drinking a mug of tea, when a random guy called Castiel's name from across the library.

The transition of Castiel's facial features was almost inhuman. A moment ago he had been calm and even smiling slightly at the book in his hand. As soon as he heard the man's voice, though, his hands tightened on his mug and book, and he looked shocked- blue eyes widening and face paling a noticeable shade.

Dean gazed at the newcomer from his seat, an innocently curious expression forming on his face. The man had a British accent, his hair was a dusty blond, and he wore a ridiculously low v-neck. Automatically, Dean wondered what his relation was to Castiel. The man seemed to be smiling until he caught sight of Dean. Then his expression changed into one of bafflement.

Castiel immediately set his book and mug down and stood up, purposefully blocking Dean's view from the man in order to get his attention. The librarian presented a stiff smile. "I'll be right back," he spoke before leaving the table and approaching the stranger, who was a good enough distance away from Dean for their conversation to be unheard. Castiel murmured something, seeming to be gesturing for the man to follow, but he didn't. Instead, the British man stayed put, giving Castiel a teasing grin as he spoke.

Dean wished he had superhuman hearing, because he quickly decided he did not like the look that man was giving Castiel. He tried to avert his attention back to grading so the two men could have their privacy, but his curiosity was too great. He knew so little about Castiel's life, he couldn't help but be at least a little nosy.

Mr. British put a hand on Castiel's arm as he leaned forward, saying something under his breath. Dean felt his gut burn with envy, and he had to quell the urge to shove the man away a couple feet. Castiel shook his head in response to whatever it was the man had said, and Dean picked up the words "we're not doing this here". At that response, Mr. British smiled before he turned to gaze at Dean.

Dean instantly blushed at being caught staring, but he forced himself to hold his gaze, raising an eyebrow challengingly. The man kept a straight expression, not flinching at Dean's reaction. Castiel spoke, and Mr. British smirked before turning to face Castiel again. He said something, and Castiel seemed to tense. The librarian reached for his coiled lanyard, unattaching something from it and placing it roughly into the man's awaiting hand. Before he could pull away, though, Mr. British tightened his hand around Castiel's, pulling him near and leaning close again as he said something. Castiel seemed to redden, and he took his hand back, turning to walk over to Dean with an almost angry expression.

Dean was so focused on Castiel, he didn't notice the British man leave. And he didn't even bother pretending he hadn't watched that whole thing.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asked once Castiel had joined him.

The librarian took a deep breath before he grabbed his mug. "Nothing important," he stated.

Dean gave Castiel a look. He looked towards the library entrance, trying to find the man. "Who was that?" Dean asked.

Castiel's lips tightened into a line before he said. "Just an… old friend."

Dean was confused. "You two didn't seem so friendly."

At that, Castiel smiled (although it did look a bit sad). "No… I suppose you're right."

They didn't speak further on the matter, but Dean had a feeling he knew who that was. Either Castiel was one to have fallouts with friendships, or that man was the result of a bad breakup. He was practically  _flirting_ with Castiel. It made Dean feel incredibly annoyed, and he wasn't even sure why. It's not like he and Cas declared their relationship official. In fact, just the other day Dean was telling himself there shouldn't be a relationship at all.

But, if he was going to be honest with himself, Dean felt possessive. He didn't like the way that man had acted with Castiel- those touches and smiles. It left him with an awful sick feeling in his stomach.

Castiel was- at least, for the moment-  _Dean's._

There was no denying how Dean felt, now.

They spent the rest of their afternoon in the library quietly. Dean was too upset to talk much, and he was far too distracted to even behave and think properly.

So that would explain what happened when Dean drove Castiel home.

A couple days ago Dean began driving Castiel to his apartment after work. He didn't like the idea of Castiel taking a bus alone at night, and offered to take him home whenever he was at the library late enough (which was every time he'd actually show). Normally these car rides were filled with conversation and even a little bit of flirting. Today, though, it was silent.

When Dean parked outside of Castiel's apartment, neither moved.

"Dean," Castiel began, trying to get the blond's attention.

Dean loosened his hands on the steering wheel, turning to meet Castiel's gaze. It was dark- the light of streetlamps illuminated Castiel's face with a soft glow. His eyes, however, shone. Before he knew what he was doing, Dean pounced on Castiel, kissing him deeply and letting out all the emotions that had gathered since the fucking British nuisance had shown.

Castiel was taken aback, but he adjusted quickly, hands flying up to cradle Dean's face- fingers resting on his cheeks and sliding along the bone that structured them. Dean placed a hand on Castiel's arm- where  _he_ had touched- and placed the other one on Castiel's side, pulling him close and advancing his kisses.

When they parted their lips, Dean kept his eyes closed, and Castiel rested their foreheads against one another. They each took a moment to catch their breath. Castiel's thumb traced over Dean's lower lip. His eyes opened.

"Yes," Dean spoke, making Castiel pull away slightly so they could look at one another.

He looked shocked- his blue eyes were wide and they searched Dean's own. "What?" he asked, breathless.

Dean looked away, averting his eyes to Castiel's lips before looking back up. "I want to move in," he spoke slowly, wondering why he didn't feel panicked. "With you."

Castiel suddenly smiled, letting out a laugh before closing in their distance, giving Dean a long, passionate kiss. When they parted, he smiled again, seeming speechless. "I'm glad," he finally whispered.

And that was how Dean made the commitment of a lifetime- one that, in a few years time, he'd look back at and question if it was really the right thing to do.

* * *

Sam was enthralled with the news. He agreed to look into borrowing a truck from a close friend from college, Andy, for the move. They planned on moving everything in that Sunday, and they'd sell the rest of furniture that Dean wouldn't need, anymore.

Which was… a lot, if he was going to be honest.

Castiel's apartment was already fully furnished. Dean was stuck on what he should bring and sell. This, of course, led to Castiel coming over to help decide. At first, Dean had been self conscious with the perfect, flawless, neat, and sophisticated Castiel seeing his dingy apartment. But the fortune teller was kind, and didn't make any comments on the size or on the fact that the elevator had broken down and he had to walk up seven flights of stairs. They selected the furniture Dean should bring, and then Castiel left to his apartment to finalize the measurements. Besides his bedroom furniture and maybe some chairs that matched with the librarian's decor, Dean didn't need much else.

Two days later Dean and Castiel met with the apartment landlord. It was surprisingly quick and simple to be added onto Castiel's lease. The landlord seemed pretty easygoing, and he welcomed Dean with a smile and reassurances of an easy transaction. There weren't many rules (besides the usual no pets), and the next thing he knew Dean was out of his apartment and in Castiel's. Honestly, Dean was shocked with how much lower the price ended up being- he didn't even know what to do with the extra money he'd have. Probably get some decent food.

Pretty soon the weekend arrived. Dean had spent all of Saturday cleaning up his apartment and preparing it for the move-out inspection.

Charlie had come over to help clean- which Dean ended up being extremely grateful for, since she brought her vacuum (Dean's was a crappy handheld one). They talked as they cleaned, and Dean caught the redhead up on everything that had happened. She seemed genuinely happy for Dean.

"I'm inviting you for drinks next Saturday," Charlie informed as she carefully packed some dishes in a box. Dean looked up from wiping down the counter tops, a wary expression ready to be presented to his friend. "Actually, you don't have a choice," she informed him, giving a smile. "You have to come. Also, you have to bring Mystery Man, I wanna meet the stranger who got Dean Winchester to go on more than one date."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he smiled. It was almost humorous, imagining Cas drinking with Charlie. He couldn't really picture it. "Alright. I'll let him know. Don't be shocked if he says no, though- I don't think he's much of the drinking type."

Charlie beamed. "I'll let Pam know you're both coming."

* * *

It didn't take much time for Dean to pack. In a way, it was sort of sad. Besides his furniture, Dean had all his belongings ready in just a little over an hour.

That Sunday, Sam came over with Andy's truck. It was difficult to get everything out due to the busted elevator, but they managed. Dean was just happy he didn't have much to begin with. After a couple of hours, they had all the contents of Dean's home in the truck. They'd place the things he didn't need in storage to sell later, and took the rest to his new apartment.

As Sam drove, Dean fingered at the key in his pocket. It tingled in its spot on his thigh, just as Castiel's phone number had- urging Dean to stop and think about what he was doing.

But he didn't want to think.

Things were going okay. Dean would be okay. He needed to stop worrying about the future and focus on what was happening  _right now_. Sam thought this was a good idea- he constantly reassured Dean that he was making the right choice. Shouldn't that be enough? Sam's word always mattered to Dean. His little brother  _always_ knew what was right.

So if Sam thought Dean had made the right decision, then Dean just had to believe in himself, as well.

But that was hard to do once the sight of Castiel's- no,  _Dean's_ apartment came into view. His heart hammered in his chest, and he suddenly felt sick.

"Dean?"

Dean looked over at Sammy. The younger Winchester gave an easy smile. "You ready?" He asked.

Nodding, Dean unbuckled his seat belt. "Yeah."

They started with the lighter loads first, and hauled Dean's suitcases up to the amazing,  _working_  elevator. It didn't even rock about as it lifted them up. From there they ascended smoothly to the fifth floor, then walked over to Dean's door.

As he fumbled in his pocket for the key, the door opened.

Castiel was standing there, and he smiled at the sight of the Winchester brothers.

"Dean, Sam," he spoke, opening the door wider to let them in. "Here, let me help," the librarian insisted as he took a few suitcases almost effortlessly. Dean had to admit he was a little more than impressed by the way Castiel handled the luggage, and he couldn't help but let his mind wander before he sorted himself out and realized where he was.

Now was so not the time.

The Winchesters stepped into the apartment, and once Cas put the suitcases down he reached out a hand to Sam.

"It's nice to see you again, Sam."

The taller Winchester gave a smile before accepting the greeting, giving Castiel a firm handshake. "Yeah, it's been a while."

Sam and Castiel resumed light conversation, and brought the suitcases to Dean's new bedroom. The teacher trailed behind, feeling oddly left out of the loop. It was almost like Sam was his dad- assessing and interviewing Dean's romantic interest. If the situation were different, Dean would have found it humorous. Right now, though, it just made him uneasy and nervous. Maybe even a tad bit annoyed.

The pair continued to talk about Sam's coming marriage to Jess, and Sam explained his awe at Castiel's fortune telling, just as Dean had over a month ago. Castiel was modest and polite, and he expressed his happiness at the fact that things worked out in Sam's favor. Sam proposed that Castiel should meet Jessica (since he had apparently talked about him to her, before), and Castiel happily obliged, not before giving Dean a glance to make sure it was okay.

Honestly, despite the weirdness of it all, Dean was glad Cas and Sam were hitting it off. It wasn't every day that Sam liked Dean's choice of friends (he wasn't even going to recall the incident with Gordon), so Dean was glad he found someone even his brother could relate to and enjoy for company.

They all worked at bringing the rest of Dean's things into the apartment. It didn't take much- maybe just a little under an hour to get everything in. Everything went smoothly with the three of them working. After that, Sam headed home (only after Castiel and Dean reassured him for the hundredth time that they could unpack), but not before he and Castiel exchanged numbers and planned for a time they could all get together for dinner, so that Cas could meet Jess and they could all catch up.

As soon as Sam left, Dean suddenly felt lost. The realization of all that had happened hit him hard, and he tried not to panic in front of Castiel.

 _Why was he doing this?_  What made him decide to move in with Castiel?

Suddenly, Dean felt something sort of like homesickness. Which was odd, since he hadn't had a home since he was a kid. He just felt the need to be in a familiar environment- even if it was the cold, dullness of his old apartment bedroom.

But he sucked it up, and instead helped Castiel rearrange all the furniture- finding ways to make room for Dean's. All Dean really brought in addition to the living room was an old brown leather sitting chair and a side table. It wasn't really as pristine as Castiel's main furniture, but it sorta matched the old worn quality of Castiel's rocking chair.

In fact, Dean's furniture sort of gave Castiel's apartment life, if that even made sense. Castiel's furnishing was all new- none of it held any signs of going through any sort of life. Everything was clean and almost untouched- maybe just a wrinkle here or an unruly pillow there. But, overall, everything just seemed temporary- like Castiel was prepared to sell and move out at any moment.

Dean suddenly realized what Castiel's house lacked.

There were no family photos- no old trinkets or antiques of any kind. Most homes contained something of someone's past. But Castiel's was practically clean- like he had no past, at all. It was strange, and a little bit unsettling.

Dean was determined to change that. He suddenly felt the urge to bring something to Castiel's life. He wanted to bring about some memories to this apartment.

And the only way to do that, Dean decided, was to start as soon as possible.

"Hey, Cas," Dean spoke as they unpacked his kitchen supplies. Castiel looked up, shocked by Dean's voice. They hadn't talked much since Sam left.

"Yes?" He asked, seeming wary as he set an empty cardboard box down.

Dean hesitated. "Uhm- well, my friend Charlie invited us out for drinks this Saturday," he informed, fiddling with rearranging silverware. "I mean, you don't have to come if it's not your kind of thing, but-"

"That sounds fun," Castiel interrupted, shocking Dean and making him instinctively look up.

Castiel's blue eyes smiled- crow's feet branching out from them. "I'd love to go."

Dean smiled back, albeit a little nervously. "Uh, alright. I'll let her know," he replied.

And that was the end of that conversation. There. Done. Finished.

Dean went to sleep that night, listening to the quiet hum of the heater and almost missing the louder clinking of his own.

It was just one of the many things he'd have to get used to.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Charlie, of course, was very excited by the news that Monday. She arranged to be the designated driver for the night, and talked excitedly about their upcoming plans.

Dean had gotten drunk with Charlie, before. In fact, it was rather fun. But he couldn't feel any excitement towards their plans. His brain-racking anxiety was the only thing he could fully process.

Living with Castiel was just… strange.

They didn't talk much (although Dean assumed that was his own fault, since he tended to avoid his new room mate), and the only times they saw one another was for a couple seconds in the morning and at a few minutes at night.

Well, besides at the library.

Even though there was internet access at the apartment, Dean still took to visiting the librarian after school. Perhaps it was habit. It was the only easily accessible place that was familiar to him, these days, and whenever he was there he found it easy to talk to Castiel freely.

The rides home were equally comfortable, although it was still strange to walk into Castiel's apartment with him rather than drive to his own. Dean still had trouble distinguishing the place as  _his_ home, too, and he had no idea why.

There were still boxes Dean had been postponing in unpacking. They were personal possessions- pictures of his parents and old family trinkets that he managed to scavenge from his uncle Bobby's attic when he was a teenager. Dean was hesitant about bringing these items out. It was that one final personal touch that would make this apartment home.

It was basically what sealed this all together.

So Dean kept it to himself. He hid the boxes in a corner of his room, and threw a spare sheet on top of it, soon stacking other items on top of those boxes. In no time, it looked like a ratty old table. Dean made sure he ignored it most of the time, but whenever he went to bed at night it was the last thing he thought of.

Dean debated texting Sam and asking him for advice on what to do about Cas. But he was nervous, and he couldn't bring himself to even think about it. He didn't want to think about how unreasonable he was being. It's not like Cas was forcing anything out of Dean. He didn't establish an official relationship, and he even gave Dean more than enough room, with no complaining whatsoever. He was being more than understanding.

But Dean couldn't help it. He couldn't rid himself of the aching anxiety that settled within him. It only grew as the days passed, and all he could hope was that after Saturday would settle things down and he would finally manage to loosen his nerves.

Eventually, Saturday came. Dean had forced his anxiety aside that morning and drove Castiel to work, chatting with him about their plans. Castiel seemed happy that they were talking more, and he participated in their conversation enthusiastically, listening and responding and giving Dean those smiles that sent his stomach flipping and heart running.

Dean was still not very sure if Castiel would drink with him and the others. He didn't seem like he'd be up to it. But the teacher decided to put away those thoughts. He'd worry about it later that night.

Trying to distract himself, Dean went to the apartment and tried to work until night arrived. It didn't quite help, and he found himself pacing about his new home, rearranging things and cleaning up whatever he saw (which wasn't much, Castiel kept the place spotless). Either way, the robotic activity served to ease his nerves, slightly.

It didn't make time pass too fast, though.

Dean shot a quick text at Charlie, asking her what time she wanted him ready. She replied right away.

**Charlie, 6:15 pm:**

**I'll be there by 10. Send me ur address?**

Before Dean could reply, she sent another text.

**Charlie, 6:15 pm:**

**Im expecting a proper introduction to ur boy toy. Just a heads up ;) xxx**

Dean blushed at the text, deciding to ignore it and send her his address. After that, he didn't have much to do. He paced around the apartment, browsing through Cas's movie and music collection. It was mostly old movies Dean had seen and classical music he'd never heard of. He quickly grew bored and walked to his room.

Castiel's bedroom was right next to Dean's, and the itching need to snoop around the practically empty room suddenly arose within him. He had only seen it once the morning he woke up there. In that time, he was too busy freaking out to properly take a look.

He didn't go in, though. Instead, Dean forced his thoughts elsewhere and took a long shower. When he finished, he took his time changing and made sure he had everything he needed. It was still early, but Castiel would be closing soon. Dean checked his watch. They probably had enough time to get something to eat before heading out….

Deciding on that, Dean grabbed his keys and made his way out the door.

* * *

Castiel was shocked with Dean's arrival, that much was obvious. But that shock replaced itself with a hint of amusement when Dean recommended they go get something to eat.

"Sure- that sounds great, actually. Give me one moment," he replied before heading off to talk to a woman standing behind the desk. She smiled as he approached, and they instantly went in conversation. A sly smile on her face, she averted her gaze to Dean, sizing him up before Castiel gained her attention. Then she nodded, urging him away and making him laugh.

He gave her the library keys before heading back towards Dean and smiling wide. "Becca is going to close, tonight."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I mean, I can wait if you need to-"

Castiel waved a dismissive hand as he shrugged on his coat. "Don't worry about it. There's only an hour left and I have finished with all the filing." He bumped his arm with Dean's, trying to get him to smile. "Where are we headed?"

Dean finally smiled back. "I thought you were psychic," he replied in a teasing manner.

Castiel smirked as they walked out the front door. "I tend to preserve my super powers until they're truly needed. Like at carnivals."

With a laugh, Dean led him to the car. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

When they pulled up next to the cafe, Castiel was smiling warmly. It was the same one from their first date. Dean knew Castiel had really enjoyed his time there, and it had been a while since they've gone.

They walked in side by side, Dean even holding open the door for Castiel, earning himself a shy smile from the librarian. After making their orders at the front, they sat at their old table and talked.

"So what have you been up to all day?" Castiel asked, his amused smile taking back its place on his lips.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of his water. "Just some work. And, uhm, and stuff."

Castiel hummed in interest. "That sounds like an intriguing day."

"Oh, it was."

Silence.

"Well, it's quite flattering," Castiel spoke up, leaning back in his seat and drinking some of his tea he had ordered.

Dean was confused. "What is?"

"Oh, you know, just how much you missed my company," Castiel stated, matter-of-factly.

Dean felt himself flush hotly. "Wh- no I didn't," he protested.

"Hmm, of course not," Castiel replied, looking pointedly around the diner. When Dean flushed further, Castiel took to smiling smugly as he blew steam from his cup, his lips forming a perfect "O".

Dean had to tear his eyes away, embarrassed. Castiel kicked his foot lightly against Dean's underneath the table.

"I'm only teasing," he interjected, giving Dean a soft smile. "I understand it can be quite boring there by yourself. If you'd like, I could show you some places nearby that I enjoy visiting. It would be nice to acquaintance yourself with the area.

Nodding, Dean smiled now. "Yeah, sure. That'd be cool."

The rest of their dinner went smoothly. They spoke about menial things and Dean could feel himself relaxing. Before he knew it, it was nearly nine o'clock.

"We should head out," Dean spoke, taking one more bite of the apple pie they had split between them.

Castiel nodded, scooping some of the vanilla ice cream that came with it into his mouth. Vanilla lingered on his lips before he licked it away, and Dean had to make himself look elsewhere. Fuck, though, he couldn't blame himself. Castiel had the nicest lips.

They went back to the apartment, and upon arriving there Castiel took a quick shower while Dean sat in the living room, flicking through the channels. When it was nearly ten and Castiel arrived in the living room, Dean did a double take.

The librarian didn't notice Dean staring, at first, and he thanked God because he could not look away. Castiel was wearing dark jeans that hugged his runner legs nicely, fitting like they were made for him. A deep blue button up shirt adorned his torso, a few buttons undone on the top and exposing tanned skin and collarbone. Dean almost protested when Castiel slipped on a black jacket.

When he finally looked away, Dean noticed that Castiel had caught him staring. He blushed profusely at Castiel's self-satisfied grin.

"Shall we?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow as Dean got up.

He checked his phone. "Er, yeah, Charlie's should be close."

As if right on cue, Dean received a text message from the redhead stating she was outside. Dean's heart raced. "Let's go."

They walked out the door, Dean trailing behind Castiel, unable to help but appreciate the view- Cas' ass looked fucking  _great_  in those jeans- and having to force his eyes elsewhere for the umpteenth time that day.

This was not going to go well.

As they arrived at the lobby of the apartment, Dean spoke up.

"Uhm, so, just a warning, Charlie might be- well, she can tend to be kinda inappropriate. Uhm, anything she says, just- well, I apologize in advance," Dean stammered, earning a laugh from Castiel.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Dean," the librarian reassured. Dean nodded before they walked out the door.

Charlie was leaning against her car outside, and she straightened up when she saw them, a wide smile on her face as she waved.

"Hey, Charlie," Dean greeted, surprised that she wasn't already making any embarrassing comments.

He spoke too soon.

"Hi, yourself," she replied before averting her gaze to Castiel, looking him up and down. "And  _hello_ there," she added, putting on her flirtiest smile. Dean knew Charlie wasn't interested, but he still couldn't help but blush and feel the need to sink into the floor. He knew exactly what Charlie was thinking, and he could only hope she wouldn't say anything too mentally scarring.

Castiel cracked a smile. "Nice to meet you," he replied, deciding to play along. Dean thanked the lord that he had warned Castiel of Charlie's antics previously.

Charlie stuck a hand out, smiling cheekily. "Likewise. I'm Charlie. Dean has told me  _a lot_ about you," she spoke, glancing at Dean to give him a lewd wink. Castiel's smile widened, and he looked like he was holding back a laugh.

Dean was bright red now as he interrupted them. "Alright, can we get a move on?" he spoke up, putting a hand on Charlie's shoulder and guiding her away from her new play-toy. Charlie laughed.

"Alright, alright, Mr. Grumpypants," she gave in, climbing into the driver's seat. Dean sat next to her, and Castiel climbed into the back. That didn't stop them from continuing their conversation, though. Charlie had mercy on Dean, and decided to keep things PG. They talked about basic things like work and how long they've lived in Chicago, etcetera. Dean pretended not to be interested, but he payed close attention to Castiel's answers, being sure to keep them in mind as he fiddled with Charlie's radio. Charlie occasionally brought Dean into the conversation, mostly when she noticed similarities between the two men, and when making suggestive comments. Dean reminded himself to get her back, later.

Pretty soon they were pulling up to Pam's bar/club. Music was booming from within, and the place seemed packed. Dean felt his stomach twist. God, he needed a drink.

They made their way inside and managed to find a table amongst the sea of people dancing and drinking. Dean had never seen the place so crowded, before, and it somewhat served to ease his nervousness. He didn't feel as though he were the center of attention with so many people around. His problems suddenly seemed so small.

Charlie went off to grab them some beers to start, and Dean was suddenly left alone with Castiel. The librarian had taken off his jacket, and Dean forced himself to keep his eyes upwards.

"Charlie's nice," Castiel spoke above the volume of the music. Dean smiled.

"Yeah, she's a bit much. Sorry about that- you really don't have to answer her questions. They'll only get worse," he replied.

Castiel laughed, now. "I really don't mind them. I like her- she's funny."

They were silent.

"So, you've mentioned me, huh?" Castiel asked with a wink that had Dean's heart pounding.

"Uhm-"

Charlie arrived with the beers, and Dean instantly grabbed his, taking large gulps of the golden alcohol. Pamela was right behind Charlie, and they both laughed.

"Slow down there, cowboy," Pamela teased. "The night is still young."

Dean wiped the foam of his beer from his lips with a swipe of his tongue. "Yeah, yeah," he replied, taking another sip.

Pamela squeezed in next to Dean, Charlie sitting next to Castiel. They made quick introductions, and soon Pam was acquainted with Castiel, as well. Just like with every person Dean introduced Cas to, they hit it off. Everybody sipped on their beers (well, Dean was practically gulping down his), and the conversation went on, drowned underneath the boom of music and chatter of other people.

As soon as Dean finished his beer, he excused himself, heading over to the bar counter. The more space he put between himself and Castiel, the clearer his head felt (despite the warm thrum of alcohol he could feel starting to tingle within him). He plopped down at the bar counter, and ordered a shot of vodka. That shot turned into three, and when he was on his fourth a hand grabbed the shot glass, taking it away from him.

Dean turned to see Castiel, a sly look in his blue eyes. He took the shot down in one quick, fluid motion, and Dean gulped as he watched Cas' adam's apple bob. Castiel's facial expression did not waver, and he ordered another round for them both. It was strangely erotic, watching Castiel drink. Dean had thought Castiel wouldn't be much of a drinker- he seemed sort of above stuff like that. But, damn, was he proven wrong.

Castiel continued ordering drinks for them, and Dean slowly began to feel warmer and warmer, the alcohol taking full effect and loosening his stiff muscles. He laughed with Castiel about things he couldn't remember, and he couldn't help but let his eyes stray multiple times to Castiel's reddened cheeks and lips and  _he looked so attractive_. He noticed Castiel observing Dean as well as they talked, and all he wanted was for this night to last.

Castiel requested a round of tequila for them both, and it was served with a lemon wedge and some salt. Instead of taking his shot, Dean watched Castiel lick the spot between his index finger and thumb slowly, eyes boring straight into Dean's as he sprinkled salt in that spot and picked up his glass.

Their eye contact didn't break as Castiel licked the salt off his hand just as slowly, and then tipped his head back as he downed his shot, picking up his lemon wedge and biting down on it after. Dean felt abnormally aroused, and he blamed the alcohol.

He took his own shot, although not as erotically as Cas had, and he held back his hiss at the burn, wondering how Castiel got all the drinks down with barely a flutter of his eyelashes or a twitch of his mouth.

After a moment, Castiel excused himself, slipping into the crowd of dancing bodies. Charlie shortly took his spot.

"So, I saw that," she informed, giggling as Dean looked sheepishly away. "Dean, c'mon, you gotta make a move," the redhead urged, a slight slur to her voice. "I mean- you gotta tap that.  _I_ would tap that. You gotta know that means something," she rambled.

"Charlie, you're drunk," Dean grumbled, ordering a beer to somewhat ease his churning stomach. He held it close to him, using it almost like a comfort object.

"So are you," she retorted, smiling childishly as she eyed the crowd. "Well, if you're not gonna get laid tonight, I'm gonna," she spoke, eyeing an attractive brunette.

Dean rolled his eyes, adjusting his position in his seat as he faced his beer. "You're the worst," he complained.

"I love you too!" she replied, giving Dean a heavy hug. " _Oh_ \- tall dark and handsome at four o'clock- go get some, Winchester," she urged, slapping Dean's back hard and making him nearly choke on his drink.

Before he could turn around to glare, Castiel was lifting Dean up by the arm, placing a wad of cash on the counter to pay off their drinks.

"Dance with me?" he asked, leading Dean to the dancefloor. Castiel was very drunk, that much was obvious. But Dean found that he couldn't say no as Castiel pulled him near, their chests bumping and faces meeting, hot breaths mingling from their intimate proximity. Multicolored lights were flashing about in tune with the music, and they painted Castiel's skin in hues of reds, blues, greens, yellows, blues, blues, blue eyes-

Castiel placed Dean's hands on his ass, pressing them in before sliding up along his spine and tangling his fingers in Dean's hair, pulling him close. Those blue eyes gazed intently at Dean, and- yep, Castiel was definitely drunk. They moved to the quick beat of the music, grinding up on one another and then Dean was kissing him.

Wet, warm lips met Dean's, and they tasted like alcohol. A faint trace of lemon and salt permeated through Dean's tastebuds, and he suddenly grew hard as he remembered the obscene gesture Castiel had made- licking along his hand slowly. the thought brought him back to the bathroom stall in the movie theater, and now Dean was imagining those lips around his cock- that tongue working itself around-

Dean kissed Castiel hard, grinding his erection against Castiel's hip and earning a wet gasp from the smaller man. Castiel was equally hard, and he alternated between pushing into Dean's cupped hands and pressing against Dean's cock. It turned into a rocking motion, and Dean grew more and more sexually frustrated as the time ticked by.

Castiel nosed Dean away, kissing and licking at his jaw as he made his way to Dean's ear. "Let's get out of here," he whispered, pressing his erection insistently against Dean's.

Dean nodded, lips parted and breath rushed, and he scoped the crowd for Charlie so he could let her know they'd be leaving. She was nowhere to be seen, so he decided he'd text her later as he led Castiel out the bar and called up a cab.

They waited impatiently for their cab to arrive, sneaking in a couple of pecks or quick gropes as they waited. Dean was dizzy with alcohol and his desire, and he slowly felt the voice in the back of his head wither away.

As soon as the cab pulled up, they climbed in and Castiel drunkenly mumbled out their address, sinking into the seat and hooking his foot with Dean's, rubbing it up and down his leg in an enticing manner. Dean swallowed, hand tightening in its place on Cas' knee.

Before they managed to hump each other in the cab, they were at the apartment. Dean payed off their tab and they stumbled out of the car and into the apartment building. Right when they were in the elevator, they began making out, Castiel's hand slipping up Dean's shirt and his thumb skimming over an erect nipple, toying with the bud as Dean let out enthusiastic moans into Castiel's mouth.

The elevator dinged as it stopped at their floor, and Castiel grasped Dean's hand, pulling him to their apartment and fumbling through his pocket, grabbing his key. It took a couple of attempts, but Castiel finally managed to fit it in the lock, and he let himself in, dragging Dean along with him.

Dean went easily, shutting the door behind him and submitting when Castiel shoved him against it, kissing him hotly- wetly. The smaller man shoved off Dean's jacket, and Dean let it fall to the floor before he removed Castiel's. They kicked off their shoes and socks (with a bit of stumbling), and then Castiel was pressing himself into Dean, eagerly thrusting his hips into Dean's own- seeking out his cock.

Dean could feel Castiel's hard, hot length against him, and he adjusted their position so his own could press against Castiel's- so the blue-eyed man could feel how hard he was for him. Castiel rocked back and forth against Dean, insistent circular motions with his hips that drew heavy gasps from Dean's lips. In no time at all, Dean was whimpering.

" _Fuck_ \- please, Cas," he panted out, hands falling to Castiel's ass and pulling him in, pressing them close,  _hard._  "'Gonna fuckin' come in my pants if you don't stop," he growled, resisting the urge to continue humping.

Castiel laughed into Dean's mouth, removing his lips to latch them onto Dean's throat. The teacher shivered at the hot pair of lips that ghosted at his neck- the tongue that reached out and licked greedily.

"Let's take this to the bedroom, then," he panted out, voice deep and filled with lust.

Dean was more than happy with that suggestion, and he let Castiel bring him to his bedroom, sitting him down on the bed and placing himself directly on Dean's lap, grinding his ass against Dean's hard length.

" _Ah_ \- fuck," Dean gasped, bucking his hips up uselessly. Castiel had him straddled, and he controlled their pace, going in a slow, teasing manner that had Dean nearly begging. " _Cas_ -" he moaned.

Castiel laid him down, then, giving Dean a firm, full kiss before moving his lips down and kissing at Dean's chin. His lips latched onto Dean's neck, licking and biting and sucking, driving out moans from the teacher. Castiel pulled away before removing Dean's shirt in one fluid motion, then shucking off his jeans and boxers, and suddenly Dean felt extremely vulnerable, despite his drunken haze. Castiel kept his own clothes on as he went down on Dean, kissing his neck and trailing his lips down, leaving a trace of licks in his path. Finally, Castiel reached Dean's nipple, and took it into his mouth, the tip of his tongue teasing at the bud, urging it to harden and making Dean keen.

" _Oh, fuck_ , Cas- fuck, yeah," he panted, hand flying to Castiel's head where his fingers tangled in dark locks, his other hand gripping the sheets. Castiel teased Dean's other nipple with his fingers, scraping his nail lightly against it. The action went straight to Dean's cock, and he bucked up, letting out an embarrassing whine.

" _Cas_ , please," he begged, nearly blacking out by the expert tease of Castiel's tongue. His body was thrumming with ecstasy and his stomach burned with alcohol, and all Dean wanted was the orgasm of a lifetime.

When he thought he'd just come like this- Cas's mouth on his oversensitive nipples, the librarian finally removed himself, going lower- down to where Dean really wanted his lips.

Dean's hands went to his sides, clenching into the cool sheets as he watched Castiel. Blue eyes looked up at him as Castiel grabbed the base of Dean's cock, making him almost thrust upwards expectantly. Licking his lips, Castiel smirked before going down- taking Dean in until his lips met his hand.

Dean keened, letting out a loud moan and throwing his head back against the pillow. Castiel removed his lips, digging the tip of his tongue into Dean's slit, gathering up the oozing precome that now moved to sit on his lips in a sticky, glistening mess. Dean gasped as he bucked upwards, stilling himself and mumbling incoherently as Castiel's tongue traced the head of Dean's cock in a horribly teasing manner. He pressed the tip of his tongue at the spot just beneath the head of Dean's cock, the sensitive area underneath that had Dean biting his lip to stop from moaning too loud. A hand went to fondle Dean's balls, resting them against the smoothness of Castiel's palm as he rolled them about.

"Yeah- yeah,  _fu_ \- like that, Cas,  _just like that_ ," Dean begged, circling his hips against the bed, not daring to buck them, again. " _God_ , baby, please, more," he begged, a total mess at this point.

Castiel granted him his wish, bobbing up and down in a hot, wet mess on Dean's cock, and he was  _so_ close to the edge-

Suddenly, Castiel removed his hands and lips, letting Dean's cock spring back with a  _pop_. It rested against Dean's belly, full and flushed- glistening with precum and spit. The librarian began crawling upwards and connected his lips with Dean's, bucking his clothed erection against Dean's naked one. "You're so pretty when you beg," he whispered hotly, making Dean groan with need.

The blond kissed him desperately, tasting the faint trace of alcohol mixed with Dean's own precum. "Take off your clothes," he ordered.

Smirking, Castiel sat up and bit his lower lip teasingly, undoing one button slowly-

Dean flipped them reversed, placing shaky hands on Castiel's shirt, trying desperately to unbutton it. Four buttons were already undone, and the rest seemed to beg to do the same.

"Rip it off," Castiel commanded, voice gravelly and rough with lust, making Dean shiver. "I bought it so you could rip it the fuck off me," he reassured, bucking his hips up and connecting with Dean's waiting cock.

Not hesitating, now, Dean ripped open the shirt, making buttons fly about everywhere, landing on the bed and floorboards. This earned a content hum from Castiel as the garment was thrown to the floor. Next, Dean worked on his jeans, unbuttoning them and removing them with a harsh pull, wanting to see for himself what the dark denim had promised- what laid underneath.

Castiel assisted him, lifting his hips as he let Dean remove his boxers, as well.

Once they were both removed, Dean went straight down to Cas's cock, not wasting any time. He had been waiting to taste it since that first time in Castiel's apartment, so long ago. It had only been for a moment, that time. Now, Dean wanted Castiel's cum to fill his mouth.

Before he placed his lips on Castiel, he looked up, giving a smirk. "Raincheck," he murmured before licking a flat line up Castiel's cock.

" _Oh!"_  the librarian exclaimed.

Castiel moaned as Dean took him in, fitting as much as he could before going back up- letting his tongue slide hard against the underside of Cas's cock. He could feel hands in his hair, gripping on tight as broken syllables of Dean's name filled his hearing.

He moved his focus to the tip of Cas's cock, trying to hard not to touch his own. Cas's cock was weeping precum, and Dean lapped it up, being sure to tease at Castiel's slit, just as he had done. He then teased at the sensitive underside of Castiel's dick- right above his balls, before licking around that, too. That had sent Castiel crazy.

" _Dean_ \- fuck,  _oh_ \- keep going, fu-"

Dean took him in deep again, bobbing his head up and down at a consistent rhythm. The librarian bucked his hips once, apologizing when Dean pulled back slightly. His voice was broken- shaky with gasps. He was close, Dean could tell. There was no snarky attitude or teasing manner behind Castiel, now. Only need.

He reached another hand up and scraped his fingernails lightly against Castiel's balls, earning a sharp exclamation from the man. Dean continued these teasing motions before fondling Castiel's balls, reaching his mouth down to lick at them some more before tracing upwards, taking just the head of Castiel's cock in his mouth. The librarian was gasping, moaning and cursing as he grew closer and closer to release.

Dean hummed along Castiel's length, his free hand moving underneath Castiel to knead at his ass, fingers moving back to his balls where he placed them in his palm, rolling them about. Dean's hand whipped along Castiel's length, now, his mouth sucking on the head of Castiel's cock and his other hand tugging at Castiel's balls-

And then Castiel was coming into Dean's mouth with a loud cry, seizing all movement before exhibiting slight spasms, letting out the breath he had been holding in a series of cut gasps.

Dean swallowed every last bit, earning a string of thick curse words and encouragements from Cas. When the librarian had come down from his high, and Dean was nearly ready to come untouched, he flipped Dean onto his back, latching his lips onto his cock.

Dean groaned as his hands settled into Castiel's hair. Yes- this was it, this was-

But then Castiel was spreading Dean's legs, licking down and past his balls to-

Oh  _fuck_.

Dean's eyes widened and he felt oddly embarrassed, despite the previous situation.

"Ca-  _ngh_ , fuck, you don't have to-" Dean managed to groan out as Castiel's tongue traced around his hole, wetting the tight ring of muscle.

Dean felt exposed and awkward with Castiel's face in front of everything, but he was so damn turned on at this point that he really didn't care. He gave into Castiel's tongue, squirming about and close to release- he wanted that tongue inside him, but he knew he couldn't ask for that, yet, no matter how drunk he may be.

After getting Dean sufficiently slick, Castiel gripped onto Dean's cock, jacking him off in a slow and teasing motion, making Dean whimper with need, his hips stuttering at every pull. Castiel's other hand lifted up, wetting his fingers on Dean's precum and going down-

 _Fuck_.

Dean nearly passed out as Castiel's slick finger traced along Dean's hole, teasing and pressing and asking permission. He squirmed, trying to get that finger inside- _damnit_ , he wanted it so bad. "Cas- please, put it in," Dean begged, moaning in frustration.

After circling one more time, Castiel's wet fingertip slipped into Dean's hole, pushing in slowly, sliding in with only a little resistance. Dean tried to calm down and relax himself, giving into the intrusion. He moaned as Castiel suddenly pushed in further, all the way down to his knuckle. Dean bent his head back, whispering profanity as Castiel wiggled his finger about, as if searching for something. He curled his finger, and suddenly a shock of pure bliss ran through Dean's body.

That was all he needed.

In no time at all, he was coming, tightening around Castiel's finger as rope upon rope of cum landed into Castiel's mouth, where he had aimed as he stroked Dean hard and fast through his orgasm.

After he came to, he slowly unclenched himself, allowing Castiel to slip his finger free and reaching out a hand to the librarian, begging him to come forward.

"C'mere," he gasped, grabbing Castiel's hand and bringing him up, kissing him slowly- lazily. "That was fucking amazing," he moaned into Castiel's kisses.

Castiel laughed, kissing Dean softly and then collapsing at his side. "We should do that more often," he commented, turning to face Dean. The teacher did the same.

"Fuck, yeah, we should," Dean agreed, still out of breath. He took in Castiel's blue eyes, smiling with their adorable crow's feet.

Then Dean suddenly realized where he was. He should probably go to his own bed. Did Castiel want him to go? What time was it?

When Dean made a move to get up, Castiel grasped his arm. "Stay," he insisted, eyes almost pleading. "Just sleep next to me."

Not saying a word, Dean nodded, settling back down into the mattress.

So they laid like that, side by side, until sleep and the buzz of alcohol slowly consumed Dean, lulling him into a deep sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean's mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and a pulsing headache traveled throughout his head, reverberating through his skull with each beat of his heart- almost as though a hammer were bashing against his skull in a constant rhythm. Groaning in discomfort, Dean closed his heavy eyelids against the light of the room, and drew the blankets up to cover his face, his eyes screaming with pain from the unexpected intrusion. He could feel his stomach heave as he rolled, and suppressed the urge to gag. A hand reached out of the covers, fumbling about trying to look for the nightstand, but only hitting empty air.

Then Dean realized that this was not his comforter- the sink of the mattress was unfamiliar, and the window of Dean's room was to his left, not right. And, most importantly, he realized he was naked. Not even the sleeping naked, where he'd keep his boxers on. No, Dean was absolutely bare, and a discomfort sat on his skin- it felt like dried sweat and it made the sheets slide uncomfortably against him.

A sudden realization made the blond man shoot up in his spot (much to the opposition of his massive hangover), looking wildly around as he came to and noticed where he was.

This was Cas's room.

The teacher only vaguely remembered last night. He remembered getting drunk at the bar and Cas joining him, and then they took a cab home… he couldn't recall anything else after that.

Fuck. Fuck everything.

Dean fumbled around the empty bed, rolling over onto the other side to squint at Cas's alarm clock. It was ten o'clock, and Dean was almost too busy freaking out about how late in the morning it was to notice the tall glass of water and two ibuprofen that sat on the nightstand.

Suddenly feeling a sense of gratitude, Dean accepted the water, downing both the pills in one go before he got up and forced himself on his feet, taking a deep breath to ease his nausea and settle his spinning vision. He padded around the room for a moment in search of his boxers before finding them under the bed (how the hell did they get there?), and slipping them on.

He then gathered the rest of his clothes shucking them on as he rushed out the room, searching for his cell phone. After freaking out and wondering if he had left it at the bar, Dean found his phone in his jacket, which was draped nicely on a dining chair. For the second time that day, Dean felt an air of thanks towards Cas.

His phone was dead, so Dean went to his room to plug it in, letting it charge.

While he waited, he decided to take a shower to rid himself of the smell of sex and the hard after kick of alcohol. The sooner he got clean the sooner he'd be able to sit down and try to remember what the hell happened last night. He stripped himself of his clothes as he stepped into the bathroom, and nearly collapsed in embarrassment at the sight of himself in the mirror.

Love bites covered his chest and neck, mainly around his nipples and below his jaw. And suddenly Dean had a flashback of lying beneath a fully clothed Castiel, urging him to continue and-

Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, Dean swallowed hard and forced himself to take a long and hot shower. He scrubbed his skin vigorously, rubbing uselessly at the love bites, as if that would remove their being.

He had just been drunk. They were both drunk. It didn't mean anything.

Dean's breathing accelerated as he freaked out, closing his eyes and tilting his face up against the spray of the shower, parting his lips and letting the clean drops caress them in a soothing fashion, washing him of remnants of Castiel's kisses. Memories slowly flooded back to him, ridding him of his attempt at calm and further driving him towards anxiety.

Sam's voice sounded in his head.

_Don't freak out, Dean. Count to ten._

"One," Dean forced himself to murmur, taking in a deep breath as he did so. He couldn't breathe it out as calmly.

_Don't freak out, don't freak out._

"Two."

_Keep going._

"Three."

_Don't think. Don't think of her._

"Four."

_She's gone._

"Five."

Dean's voice replaced Sam's now.

_Move on. Sammy told you to move on._

Dean's jaw clenched, and he couldn't breathe.

"S-six."

_They're both gone. It's too late._

"Seven," Dean gasped.

_Clear your mind._

"Eight."

Everything was spiraling out of control. Dean was struggling to regain his mind- a hand braced against the wet wall.

"Nine."

_It's okay._

"Ten."

_Everything will be okay._

* * *

When Dean was fully dressed he made himself some coffee and lounged in the kitchen, reading over some emails on his laptop. It was well into noon, now, and Dean tried to get a normal routine going so he wouldn't think about last night.

Then his phone began buzzing with incoming messages that he had received when it had been dead. Charlie's name lit up the screen, and Dean hesitated before answering. He was instantly met with a picture of a sleeping stranger. Dean suddenly recognized her as the brunette Charlie had been admiring last night.

**Charlie, 6:01 a.m:**

**So I just woke up to this... I wish I remembered because** _**damn** _

And then there was a second message.

**Charlie, 6:05 a.m.:**

**did u get lucky?;)**

Dean squirmed in his seat, glancing around the apartment as if Castiel would pop up out of nowhere. He then decided to ignore the second message.

**Dean, 12:45 p.m.:**

**are you ok? You need me to pick you up?**

In a minute, she replied.

**Charlie, 12:47 p.m:**

**well, apparently she drove us in my car so I'm good. :)**

**Charlie, 12:47 p.m.:**

**I'll text u soon. Say hi to Cas for me**

That was about the time that the door opened and Castiel jogged in. Dean looked up from his computer, startled until he remembered that Castiel had Sundays off. The blue-eyed man was clad in black track pants and a gray gym sweater. Beads of sweat clung to his face, and he removed the headphones he had in at the sight of Dean.

"Good morning," he panted out, giving a kind smile. Dean returned the action, if not a bit hesitantly.

"Did you go out on a run?" he asked, although it was pretty obvious he did. Who the hell exercised themselves out of their hangover?

Castiel chuckled as he walked over to the kitchen, placing an empty water bottle on the counter. "Mostly a jog- I only ran a bit."

Dean raised an eyebrow, admittedly impressed. "That's crazy. I can hardly get myself to shower the morning after," he replied.

"It's really not so difficult, once you get moving," Castiel retaliated as he went to get a fresh glass of water. "The hardest part is getting up. But if you drink a lot of water it actually helps a good amount."

Dean snorted, taking a sip from his coffee. "Well, I ain't trying that anytime soon."

Castiel gave him a wink, automatically sending Dean's stomach in a flurry of butterflies. "Who knows? Maybe you'll warm up to the idea."

Dean made a protesting noise, trying to avert his eyes to his work but unable to help but keep a wary gaze on the librarian. Castiel was drinking his water, and Dean watched as his throat bobbed with the action. His jaw was covered with stubble, and Dean couldn't help but study the man's profile. He caught a quick glimpse of a love bite on Castiel's neck- right beneath his jaw. That finally made him look away, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Castiel didn't seem to notice Dean's inner predicament, because he suddenly appeared next to him, leaning in uncomfortably close.

"What are you working on?" he asked, arm brushing against Dean's. Although he had gone on a run, Castiel smelled good- his signature sweet, warm scent invaded Dean's senses. His intoxicating warmth filled the cool air with buzzing electricity that made Dean's mind blank for a moment. He tried to calm his heart. Fuck's sake, how old was he? It was just  _Cas._

Dean decided to brave himself, facing Castiel. He was not prepared for the sight of intensely deep blue eyes and jog-flushed cheeks and fucking perfect lips-

"Uhm- just work, uh, boring stuff," he stammered, internally cursing his crippling awkwardness.

Castiel hummed, a corner of his lips turning up in a sly smile. Dean felt his breath catch as those blue eyes averted to Dean's lips. The teacher found that he couldn't move, just waiting for Castiel to lean forward and seal what they were both thinking.

Then Dean's phone rang, and he suddenly regained control of his body, letting out his breath and ducking away from Castiel's gaze as he searched for his phone.

His hand fumbled for its purchase. Sam's name shone, and Dean thanked whatever higher power brought him this interruption.

"I- ahem, I gotta take this," Dean told the librarian, excusing himself and making his way quickly to his bedroom.

As soon as his door closed behind him, Dean answered the phone.

"Hey, Sammy," he spoke, placing a hand on the door behind him to balance himself. "What's up?"

"Hey," Sam replied, "I'm in town- are you free today?"

"Uh, yeah, I am. Sure- what do you wanna do?"

The sound of Castiel's shower started, and Dean tried not to think of Cas naked and only a room away. He tried not to think about how many lovebites Castiel would find in the mirror.

"Just wanted to grab some lunch or something. How about the diner Charlie showed us over the summer?"

Dean licked his lips, wiping a sweaty palm onto his jeans. "Yeah, sure."

"Hey, you should invite Cas, too," Sam added, sounding excited about the idea. Dean almost forgot how well those two had gotten along.

Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Uhm- he's actually pretty busy today. Maybe next time."

"Oh- okay, that's fine. So I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yeah, see you."

When Dean hung up, he took a deep breath and tried to stifle the guilt in his chest. Castiel probably would have wanted to come along. Who was Dean to cancel for him?

Dean shook his head, trying to rid himself of his guilty thoughts. He didn't need this now. He didn't need all this confusion.

So Dean slung on his jacket and headed out the apartment, not before writing a quick note telling Cas where he'd be. He at least owed him that.

The note did nothing to ease his regret, though. Neither did the music that he blared on the car ride to the cheap burger joint where he was meeting Sammy.

It was only once he saw his younger brother that Dean could allow himself to relax. The taller Winchester gave Dean a comforting smile when he walked into the diner, signaling him over to the booth he was at.

Dean plopped down in the seat from across his brother. Sam had already ordered for the both of them- a hamburger sat in front of Dean, in all its greasy glory. Sam even got one for himself.

But Dean didn't feel very hungry, and ignored his plate, instead taking to pushing around his fries. "So, what's up?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, taking a bite from his burger. "I was just picking up some things for the wedding. I was close to your apartment and wanted to check on you," he explained.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why isn't Jess with you?" he asked. "Shouldn't you two be doing all this coupley wedding stuff together?"

Sam snorted, smiling. "Uh, yeah, she's with her mother. They're dress shopping. It's all top secret and stuff- Jess even made sure I wouldn't be home at the same time as her so I won't see the dress. So I'm just on my own, and I gotta kill about three hours before I can head back. And, I mean, I'm only picking up envelopes for the invitations, so there isn't much to do."

"Ah," Dean replied, taking a sip from his glass of water. "So when should we go pick out your dress, Sammy?"

Sam threw a crumbled up straw wrapper at his brother. "Shut up, Jerk," he retorted, although he was smiling.

Dean smiled, feeling infinitely better. It had been a while since he had the opportunity to just hang out with Sammy- conversations of hospitals and apartments aside.

Apparently, he had spoke too soon.

"So how's everything going?" Sam asked. "Are you and Cas getting on well?"

 _Yeah_ , Dean thought.  _Too well._

"Well, uh, it is how it is, y'know?" Dean replied, ignoring his brother's gaze and taking to eating the fry he had been fiddling with since he sat down. "We're both just kinda busy with work- I hardly see him."

Sam, of course, knew his brother better than anyone. And it wasn't that hard for him to tell what was going on (especially according to other circumstances that were currently taking place).

"Listen, man- I'm really worried about you," Sam admitted. His gaze grew serious when Dean snorted. "I'm serious. You always do this to yourself. Don't shut anyone out, okay?" Sam advised, leaning forward- his face encompassing that concerned look that Dean knew all too well.

Dean rolled his eyes, reclining back in his seat in an act to oppose his brother's concern. "It's almost been seven years, Sam. I'm fine." He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to think about it. And he most definitely didn't want to confine in his brother about something he's kept to himself for so long.

Sam wasn't easily convinced, though. He huffed as he sat back straight, searching for words to say. "It's okay to need someone, Dean. It's fine to have someone there- even if it's just to distract you for that night. I don't want you doing what you usually do- I know you say it helps, and, well, I don't doubt it doesn't for a while. But it's not healthy to drink everything away," Sam ranted. Dean had a feeling the younger Winchester had been preparing this speech for a while.

"What is this- an alcoholics anonymous class? Last I checked, you were a lawyer, not a damn therapist," Dean grumbled, crossing his arms.

Sam's mouth twisted into a frown, but he didn't let up. "Maybe Cas can help- maybe he could hang out with you for that night. Or Charlie- hell, I could even come over. We don't even have to talk about it. We could do whatever you want."

Dean glared at his brother. "What I want is for you to drop this, Sam. I'm perfectly okay- I'm a grown ass man and I know how to take care of myself," he argued, getting up and digging through his wallet, now. He placed a twenty on the table before he spoke again. "Anyways, I just remembered, I gotta go. See you."

He ignored Sam's protests as he walked out the door. Needless to say, a liquor store was his next destination.

Dean Winchester had his own ways of coping. And they certainly didn't involve crying on someone's shoulder.

* * *

When Dean finally got home it was well into the night. The day had been overall uneventful. After buying a few bottles of liquor, he stashed them in his car and just wandered aimlessly. The last place he wanted to be was anywhere near Castiel. He couldn't take what Sam had said- using Castiel to fill the void inside of him. It didn't feel right. He didn't want things to be that way.

Nobody could fill that void.

His old apartment was the first stop. Dean spent a while lingering by it, even getting out the car to walk to the spot where he'd been attacked. A dark stain still marked the ground- refusing to weather out. Dean wished that night had never happened- he wished he was still in his crappy apartment, cost and condition be damned.

And a part of him wished he'd never approached Castiel in the library.

Afterwards, he drove around some more, no particular destination in mind. He ignored Sam's messages, feeling a twinge of guilt in his stomach at walking out on his brother. Sam had only been trying to help, Dean knew that. It had been too much, though. Dean didn't expect they'd be discussing what happened all those years ago. Sam normally left the topic untouched- it was too traumatizing and he didn't know how to discuss it with Dean, who normally detested any sort of emotional talks. So he let Dean do what he wanted to cope.

The shock was a blow to Dean's already weakened emotional state. And a few hours after the encounter with Sam, Dean found himself in a shabby bar, drinking a few beers to numb himself of the thoughts rampaging in his mind. It was only four o'clock when Dean walked in, yet he had managed to waste hours in the horribly sad establishment, nursing beers and feeling more and more like he was losing control rather than gaining it.

After a while, he stopped himself from going for the harder drinks and headed off to a park where he lounged around until the sky went dark and whatever buzz he felt from the beer was well worn off. That was around the time he decided he should head back.

When he arrived home, it was silent. The lights were still on, and the balcony door was open, but there was no noise signalling Castiel's presence.

Tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, Dean trudged to the glass door, checking the balcony before he slid it shut. The plastic bag in his hand weighed him down- bottles clinking in rhythm to his footfall.

Upon approaching his bedroom, Dean saw that the lights to Castiel's room were on, a yellow glow leaking into the dark hallway through the small gap of his ajar door.

After carelessly placing his bag in the entrance to his bedroom, Dean toed off his shoes and walked silently to Castiel's door.

He knocked once- a muffled tap before he eased the door open. "Cas?" he whispered.

When he opened the door all the way and peered in, he found the fortune teller asleep on his bed, hand clutching a book that laid page-down on his chest. An arm was folded underneath his head, and he was peacefully asleep- eyes blissfully closed.

Dean felt a wave of guilt at abandoning the librarian. After he had promised to show Dean around the area, too. Dean didn't even want to think about how lonely Castiel must have been, just reading by himself in his room.

In order to somewhat right his wrongs, Dean tiptoed in and removed the book from Castiel's hand, marking it and placing it on his nightstand. He then drew a blanket over the sleeping form, trying to keep himself from freely observing his features, even though the sink of his v-neck beckoned Dean forward.

Strangely, Dean found himself observing Castiel's room. It was well kept, just like the rest of the apartment. There was a lone oak bookshelf, a closet, and a neat desk and chair. No clothes laid about- no photos or trinkets were exposed. It was eerily bare.

Feeling as though he were intruding, Dean turned off the lamp and stepped out of the bedroom, making his way towards his own. He picked up his bag and shoes and closed the door behind him, taking to hiding his liquor in his closet. He'd use it when the time was right. But he had work tomorrow, and there was no way in hell he'd lose his job on top of everything else.

So he slept thinking of what was to come.

* * *

Dean was surprised with how easily he brought himself to slip into the motions of his everyday life. He pushed all thoughts of the anniversary to the back of his mind, and instead worked with catching up his students to their required pace. His kids put him in a good mood, and Dean even felt well enough to try at creating idle chat with Charlie and the rest of the English board.

Charlie only brought up Castiel once, surprisingly. She asked how things had gone Saturday night, and Dean had replied saying nothing happened. He didn't want Charlie to encourage him towards something he wasn't looking to pursue. In fact, he wished he hadn't brought up Castiel to her or Sam at all.

But Charlie respected Dean's answer, and (upon noticing his sour mood), instead told him of her adventure with the brunette girl, who was apparently named Gilda. They had gone out for lunch, and even planned on going out, again. Dean expressed his happiness for his friend, although he felt an awful twitch of jealousy. After that, he never mentioned Castiel, and Charlie never pestered him about it.

The difficult part was avoiding Castiel at home. Not only was it nearly impossible to do, but Dean felt like shit when he did it. He had stopped visiting the library, and instead took to doing all his work in his room, then closing his door and retiring for the night when he knew Castiel would be home.

Castiel didn't mention their switch in communication, but Dean could tell he was kind of hurt by it. The librarian rarely tried to reach out to Dean, and when he did it would only be a half-hearted smile or meaningless chit chat about the weather or work or what they needed from the store.

A massive part of Dean didn't want to push Castiel away. But he slowly yet surely lost to his hesitations and fear. Being close to Castiel wouldn't only hurt Dean, but would hurt Cas, too. And Dean was sick and tired of the repeated cycle his life had become. He wouldn't let himself get pulled into that, again.

Sam continuously called Dean as the week drew to a close. It was getting closer and closer to the anniversary, and the liquor in Dean's closet seemed to be calling out to him- reminding him of what it'd be used for and giving him promises of a numb mind and dulled emotions. The days kept counting down, and the need to drink burned in Dean's gut increasingly with every day that passed.

Finally, the day had come. Dean woke up that Friday morning with a feeling of dread. But the day he was greeted with was no different than any other. The sun still shone- his students still laughed and smiled. Charlie still brought Dean over to her classroom for lunch. They still talked and time still moved and nothing fell apart around him.

It was sort of strange, how that worked. Even though Dean felt chaotic inside, everything went about normally. Nothing stopped for him.

_Nothing stopped for them._

People still breathed and spoke and laughed. And Dean did, too. He treated that day like it was any other, until it hurt too much to pretend. Until he was in the safety of his apartment and away from other people.

Now he didn't have to pretend.  _Now he could drink it all away._

And that's exactly what he did.

Dean didn't mean for this to happen. In fact, he pretty much never meant for all the bad things that have ever happened to him to happen. And they still did.  _They always fucking did._

But this was definitely not okay.

He had been almost done with his first bottle of jack when Castiel got home. Dean didn't expect him to check on him- he was so sure Castiel would just go to his own room and sleep like usual. Hell, that's why Dean had closed his own door and turned off his main light- switching on the small lamp on his nightstand. It was a clear indicator that  _he did not want to be disturbed._

Maybe he should have gone for that extra step and locked the door.

But it was too late for that, now. He didn't even register the knock at his door before it was already opening, Dean's name being called by a hesitant librarian. He barely even had enough time to get up (or, rather,  _stumble_ ) onto his feet when Castiel had already stepped into the room.

"Hey, whas' up?" Dean asked rather lamely- his voice a horrible slur. He was well beyond the edge of sobriety, and he was actually surprised he could manage to stand let alone greet Castiel in a civil manner.

The librarian gazed at Dean with wide eyes- his hand frozen on the doorknob. The air was tense.

When he finally spoke, Dean almost sighed with relief.

"Are… are you drinking?" he asked in a dumbfounded tone.

Dean couldn't help but laugh at that. "Uh, yeah, you wanna join?"

But Castiel wasn't in the mood for jokes, obviously. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him as he observed Dean carefully. It was awkwardly silent.

"Why have you drunk a bottle of whiskey?" he asked.

Dean licked his lips, clutching his bottle possessively- as if he wanted to protect it from Cas's critical stare. Then he suddenly remembered why he was drinking- he remembered what all this was for. Flashbacks returned to him, and he fought not to finish drinking them away in front of Castiel. "I don't wanna talk 'bout this, Cas. Jus'- it's okay. I'm fine. Go to bed, 'l see ya in the morning."

And so Dean sat down on his bed, taking another swig from his bottle in hopes that Castiel would leave at that. But he should have known the librarian would be more persistent.

"Dean, what's the matter? Why are you drinking?" Castiel asked, his eyes seeming troubled. Dean was too drunk to stop what he said next. He was irritated- irritated with himself for drinking and with Cas for not leaving and  _he just wanted to be alone._

"'Cuz life is shit!  _My_  life is shit! And if you don't stay the fuck away yours will be, too," Dean exclaimed, heart pounding in his chest.

Castiel moved forward, prompting Dean to stand up in defense. "What on Earth are you talking about?" the librarian asked.

Dean sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment before he spoke again. "Nothing- it's just, it's nothing. Forget about it. Just- just go," Dean commanded, turning around and flicking a dismissive hand- praying to whatever holy being that Castiel would just  _listen for once_ and leave.

That didn't happen. Dean could hear the librarian step closer, and he fought not to turn around and look at him. He tried not to let him in. Dean needed to do this on his own- he's  _always_ done this on his own.

Dean's hands shook and everything was spinning. He could barely register Castiel's next words.

"Dean. Dean give me the bottle."

Dean laughed, although his panic was evident- clawing its way up his throat. He finally turned to face the fortune teller. "I'm fine, Cas. I don't need a goddamn babysitter."

Castiel stilled, giving a nod as he drew his hand back. "Alright. Yes- of course. Just tell me what's wrong."

Dean's breath hitched in his throat, and he met Castiel's gaze. He needed Castiel to get away- the memories weren't leaving, and if Dean didn't forget them soon he'd fucking lose it. "I can't. Just- _please_ ," he begged, hand squeezing the bottle in his hand. "You don't wanna see me like this. Jus'  _go_."

Castiel's jaw tightened, and he shook his head stubbornly. "No."

Dean straightened up, a wave of rage pushing him off the edge. "Fine," he replied, stumbling off and grabbing his keys from his desk. He forcefully placed his drink on the desk before heading towards the door. If he couldn't drink in his house, he'd go to a fucking bar to ride this through. "I'm leaving."

Castiel caught his arm just as he reached the door. " _Dean_ , don't be ridiculous, there's no way you're driving."

Dean yanked his arm out of Castiel's grip (nearly falling from his unbalanced state) , and walked into the hallway in a stubborn stomp. He needed to get out of here- he  _had_  to be alone or he didn't know what he'd do.

"Dean!" Castiel's voice rung out from behind him. "Dean, stop!"

It wasn't until Castiel forcefully grabbed Dean by the back of his shirt that the blond stopped walking. And that was only because he was being pulled back to face the librarian.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, swaying his arms about in his attempt to get free. "Let  _go!_ " he ordered, trying (and failing) to fumble drunkenly out of Castiel's grasp.

"You need to calm down and think about what you're doing," Castiel advised, intense blue eyes staring stonily into Dean's own.

Dean tried to push away, shoving at Castiel's shoulders and only earning a hard  _slam_  into the wall where Castiel now held him still. Dean's keys dropped to the floor from the impact, and he tried to focus his dizzying gaze on Castiel's eyes.

" _Calm down_ ," Castiel commanded, voice like a strong and burning fire. It caught Dean's attention, but he didn't want to give in- didn't want to let Castiel win. "Calm down, Dean," Castiel ordered once more.

Dean  _couldn't_ , though. He tried to free himself, but he was too drunk and Castiel was far stronger than he was on any day.

" _Please_ ," he begged, looking away from Castiel although he kept a hand flat on his shoulder, still trying to push him away. His fingers curled into the material of Castiel's shirt as he pushed at him. He felt defeated and ashamed, but his initial panic still made his heart race, and his mind was still screaming at him to run away and drink until he blacked out. "I'll get a cab, just let me go."

"You're going to get yourself killed," Castiel stated.

"That's normally the fucking  _plan_ , Cas," Dean replied, looking up to glare into the librarian's eyes. He was caught off guard at Dean's statement- his eyes widened and lips parted in shock. Dean dropped his gaze, trying again to push Castiel away although it was a weak attempt.

"What happened?" he asked.

Dean felt acid in his throat. "Doesn' matter. 'Was years ago," he murmured, trying to hold back the burning in his eyes.

Castiel was silent. "Your parents?" he asked, trying to see past the haze of Dean's secrets.

Dean chuckled humorlessly, lifting his head up and smiling bitterly at the fortune teller. "No- not mommy and daddy," he joked, although he had to repress a shudder at the thought of flames and gunshots.

Castiel searched Dean's eyes, eyebrows furrowed in a pensive manner. "Who did you lose?" he asked, voice low and laced with confusion- as if Dean's past was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Dean clenched his jaw as he tried to stop himself from breaking down. "Doesn' matter," he repeated in a whisper.

Castiel continued to gaze at him. "It was more than one," he suddenly spoke, and Dean felt as if he were slapped in the face. "You lost more than one person that day."

Tears gathered in Dean's eyes- the alcohol ruining his attempt at holding them back. This was bad. This was  _very_ bad. He was too drunk and he was losing control of everything. He couldn't do this- he couldn't let Castiel know. He had to do this on his own, he just  _needed to get away_.

But, instead, Dean nodded, head dropping as his breath hitched in his throat, coming out as a wet gasp. Castiel's grip loosened on Dean's shoulder.

"Dean," he whispered, urging him to speak- to tell him what happened all those years ago.

"Doesn' matter. Doesn' matter, they're gone," he choked out. Castiel was silent. He didn't respond, silently coaxing Dean to continue.

So he did.

Taking a shaky breath, Dean tried to gather the words from his alcohol-soaked brain.

"Lisa- her name was Lisa. We were married," Dean recalled, swallowing down the lump in his throat. His hands shook, and he instinctively grabbed onto tight to Castiel's arms. "She got 'n a car wreck- some drunk bastard crashed 'nto her side of the car goin' eighty," Dean's voice quivered. "She didn' make it- passed before they could get her to the hospital. 'Said she died the moment of impact," Dean explained, tears streaming down his face before he even knew it- before he could compose himself. Castiel was still silent, digesting everything Dean was saying. Dean tried taking a deep breath, but it turned into another wet gasp, and he closed his eyes tight for a moment as he tried to shake away the awful memories. "Our son died too," he spoke, voice strained. "He was due in a week. We were going to name him Ben- after her dad," Dean blabbered on, unable to see past his tears, now. "We had everythin' set up for him- I had just finished painting his nursery," Dean explained, voice cracking. He screwed his lips shut. He never talked about this to anyone, and suddenly the need to recall that day was so strong he couldn't handle it. "I lost them both- there was nothin' I could do. I couldn't say bye- couldn't do anything 'bout it-"

"Dean," Castiel interrupted. Dean continued on.

"You know the worst part?" he asked as he looked up, laughing in a pathetically choked way. His bitter smile remained as he spoke. "The guy that crashed into her? He lived.  _He_ got to live and she didn't," Dean ranted, nearly spitting out the words in disgust. "How is that fair?" he asked, although he didn't expect Castiel to respond. Blue eyes stared intensely at Dean, and the blond laughed again before he continued. "And I was so goddamned mad. I wanted to kill him- wanted to fucking murder him the moment I was forced to talk to him as if he were a fucking  _human_. And he tried to say sorry and tried to explain what had happened and I never wanted to kill someone more than I wanted to kill him-"

" _Dean_ -"

"I never got to see my son," Dean cried, sagging down in a defeated manner, his body exhausted and his mind dizzy. "I didn't get to be with them- didn't get to hear her voice one last time. All I got was a call from a hospital-  _all I got was an 'I'm sorry we couldn't save them'_."

Castiel was speechless. His mouth was opened, as if he wanted to say something- some words of comfort. But nothing came out. And Dean kept crying, losing himself in his drunken grief.

"'S all my fucking fault," he choked out.

That drove Castiel to speak. "Why would you think that?" he asked, breathless. His eyes were confused as they searched Dean's own.

"'Was supposed to take her to see her mom. Couldn't make it. I was at college- in a class, so she drove 'erself," Dean explained, breathing accelerating. "'Was still in that fuckin' class when I got the call."

"You couldn't possibly have known," Castiel retorted.

"But it could've been different. If I had just skipped that day- if I had driven her maybe it woulda been different," Dean argued. "I promised her I would- I didn't know-"

" _Dean_ ," Castiel broke in. "It's  _not_ your fault."

Dean shook his head, shoving Castiel away, now. Everything was spinning- Dean couldn't get enough air in his lungs. "But it  _is!_ _Can't you see?_ " he exclaimed, panicking. "I'm  _poison_ , Cas! People get close to me- they get hurt or killed  _or_ ," he cut himself off, taking a deep breath. "I just  _can't_ \- I can't drag people through the muck with me, not anymore," Dean slurred, the alcohol making him stumble slightly as he tried to stand up straight. "That's why you need to stay away. Nothin' good will come out of- of whatever  _this_ is," he gestured between them.

Castiel was silent, looking Dean up and down for a moment before he shook his head. "You're wrong," he argued.

Dean gazed at Castiel incredulously. " _What?_ "

"You're not poison," Castiel retorted, stepping forward. "You're not the reason for the death of others. It has nothing to do with you, and there is no way you could change someone's fate."

Dean searched Castiel's eyes frantically. "I could've saved them," he argued weakly. "It's-"

But before he could finish Castiel gathered him in a hug, holding him tight even when Dean initially struggled. "Stop it," Castiel murmured. "It's not your fault. You need to forgive yourself."

Dean tried to regain his shaky breath, his face buried in Castiel's shoulder. He didn't hug him back- he was too shocked to do that much. All he could do was panic over this- over the gentle touch he wasn't used to. "'M not good enough for you," he spoke, voice muffled and thick with tears.

"No," Castiel replied, hand rubbing slow circles on Dean's back. "You're better than you realize."

Dean shook his head at that, wanting to protest- wanting to pull away and get his drink. But Castiel only held him tighter. "You're so good," he insisted, making Dean cry more- unable to help himself. So he stood there, riding out his anxiety and trying so hard to grasp onto whatever consciousness he could obtain.

Once his panic settled, he could find it in himself to relax, closing his eyes and burying them in Castiel's neck, his hot breaths gusting out onto the librarian's skin. Castiel held him tighter, and Dean lifted a hand to grasp onto the hem of Cas's shirt- mostly because he felt too dizzy to stand up without the aid of balance.

Just as Dean's panic attack faded away, he suddenly felt sick- a strong tug pulling his gut.

" _Fuck_ , Cas, I-" he managed to get out before he pulled away and rushed to the bathroom, where he proceeded to vomit violently into the toilet- the ringing in his ears and burning in his stomach resulting from the harsh liquor that sat in him.

He threw up for what felt like ages- sweaty hands gripping on tight to the porcelain bowl as he retched. A warm hand placed itself between Dean's shoulders, and he gasped as his stomach tried to rid itself of whatever leftover contents were in it. Wave after wave came, and Dean rode them out, his throat burning and stomach flipping horribly with the exertion. Once he had regained his breathing pattern and his stomach had somewhat settled, Dean's shaky fingers reached over to flush the toilet. He then got up- accepting the hand that Castiel gave him and willing his shaky legs to lead him to the sink in a stumbling stride. He turned the water on cold, rinsing his mouth and washing the sweat from his face as Castiel stood by him, keeping a hovering hand near Dean's arm.

When he was finished, Dean let Castiel lead him to his bedroom, where he collapsed onto the mattress, allowing Castiel to grab whatever alcohol he had left and dump it away in the sink. A part of him wanted to drink the rest of it, despite throwing up horribly only a few minutes previously. He didn't know if he'd be able to sleep with the thoughts that ran through his head, at the moment.

When Castiel returned to the room, he had a tall cup of water with him.

"Drink this," he urged, handing the glass over. It took a while for Dean to get it all down, but he did. Once he had finished, Castiel told him to sleep, and proceeded to get up.

"Wait- Cas, don' go," he spoke up before he could stop himself. The librarian paused, turning to look over at him. Dean licked his lips, his heart pounding. He couldn't be alone- not with all the thoughts that he couldn't drink away. "Jus'... sit with me, please?" Dean asked, suddenly shying away from Castiel's intense gaze.

The mattress sunk beside him, and a warm hand placed itself on Dean's leg.

"Lie down, Dean," the low voice coaxed.

Dean looked up and nodded before he complied, lying down on the mattress. He covered himself with a messy bedsheet and eyed Castiel carefully as he did so. The librarian gave him a small smile.

"Try and get some sleep," he instructed.

Dean nodded, again. But he couldn't find sleep, and instead took to gazing at the ceiling, watching the fan there spin until his drunken mind grew dizzy and his nausea started up once more. They remained like that for a while, until Dean spoke again.

"You can lie down, Cas," he spoke in a grumpy mumble. "Not gonna bite 'ya."

Castiel laughed at that. "You sure?" he asked. Dean rolled his eyes, refusing to respond. After smiling softly, Castiel kicked off his shoes and laid down beside him. Dean turned on his side, his back facing Castiel. He listened to Castiel's breathing, strangely comforted by the other man's presence.

"'M sorry," Dean murmured when he felt the fuzziness of sleep approach him.

"Don't apologize," Castiel replied.

Dean drew his lips in a line. His eyes fell closed.

"Thank you," he whispered before he fell asleep.

Castiel stayed with him throughout the night.


	11. Chapter 11

When Dean woke up, it was to horrible memories and a very terrible hangover.

And Castiel sleeping by his side.

The setting seemed like an ironic case of deja vu.

Strangely, though, Dean didn't feel unsettled by Castiel's presence. He was more worried and embarrassed about the night's previous events (of which the alcohol had done nothing to wash away, much to his distaste).

Castiel was still fully dressed in his day clothes (as was Dean), and he laid on his back, an arm crossed over his torso, palm splayed on his belly while his other arm laid by his side. He looked tired- his eyes were sunken in and he was paler than usual. Dean wondered when that had happened- when Castiel suddenly looked so exhausted.

And he wondered if it had to do with himself.

Dean supposed he didn't look much better. He certainly didn't  _feel_ any better.

After carefully covering Castiel with some blankets, he went off to down some pain killers and take a shower, feeling a slight annoyance towards his consistency with drinking away his problems in the past month. He made a silent vow not to do it, again.

The hot water served to ease his headache and embarrassed thoughts, and Dean decided that when he was finished he was composed enough to return back to his room and assess what he must do.

Castiel had done so much for him last night. There was no way Dean would push him away, pride be damned. He owed Cas, now. And, if he was going to be honest, the last thing he felt like doing was ignoring him, again. Especially since he was so inexplicably drawn to him.

He only hoped the other man still felt the same way.

After approaching his bedroom and finding that the librarian was still asleep, Dean headed off to the kitchen, deciding to make coffee for the both of them. It was still fairly early, not even seven, yet, Dean noticed as he prepared two mugs. Today he was going to make things different. He was going to give Castiel what he really deserved.

He'd try his damned hardest not to drive him out.

Dean debated over making some breakfast, as well, but he decided it'd be overkill and instead brought the coffee back to his room, knocking on the door lightly and causing the librarian to stir awake, blue eyes blinking open and shining angelically with the light of the morning.

"Hey," Dean greeted, sitting down on the foot of the mattress, balancing both cups of coffee in his hands. Castiel squinted sleepily, trying to absorb his surroundings, a splash of cerulean color peeking through coal-dark lashes. Once the drowsy haze had cleared, he gave Dean a soft smile.

"Morning," he replied, stretching slightly, his shirt riding up with the action and exposing a sliver of skin that Dean made sure  _not_ to look at. "How are you feeling?" he asked suddenly, observing Dean in a concerned way.

Dean gave a sheepish smile. "I'm- uh- I'm fine, I guess," Dean answered, handing Castiel his mug. "Here."

Castiel accepted it gratefully, fingers brushing against Dean's as he held the handle. His touch was like an electric shock, and Dean tried his hardest not to pull back too fast. "Thank you," Castiel murmured.

Dean nodded, settling his mug in his lap and looking down at it, observing his twisted and curled reflection within the dark liquid. _Deep breath. Count to ten. He doesn't seem upset. Just apologize so you can move on._

_One._

Castiel was looking away from Dean, now.

_Two._

His hair was messy.

_Three._

Dean felt a strange urge to reach out-

_Four._

And flatten the unruly strands of raven locks that stuck in almost humorous directions.

_Five._

Dean averted his eyes as Castiel took a sip from his mug.

_Six._

His heart seized.

_Seven._

What if Castiel didn't accept his apology?

_Eight._

What if he was actually mad?

_Nine._

Deep breaths.

_Ten._

Do it.

"I wanna apologize. About last night," Dean spoke, glancing at Castiel. He wanted to make eye contact when he did this- he had to let Castiel know he was serious, and that he truly appreciated what Castiel did for him. The fortune teller gazed at him attentively, and Dean licked his lips before he continued, his throat suddenly dry. "You- ah, you shouldn't have seen me like that. I didn't want you to see that. It's… it's not appropriate, and it's not something I'm proud of, but-"

"It's how you cope," Castiel interrupted, not taking his eyes off Dean, looking as though he were deeply observing him. He looked, as he almost always did, as if he were trying to put together the puzzle that was Dean's life. It made Dean's heart advance every time, and a shiver ran through his spine under the man's gaze. In a way, though, it was almost comforting. "I understand."

Dean shook his head. He didn't want to leave things at that. Castiel deserved better than that- no more half assed excuses and apologies. "No- it- it's a shitty thing to do, and I really wish you didn't have to deal with me like that," he insisted, " I just…" Dean took a deep breath. Relax. "I'm sorry. Really, I am."

Blue eyes gazed at Dean's own, and the teacher tried to keep up their eye contact. Castiel's gaze was haunting- it was almost as if he were digging straight into Dean's soul. He all but ended up shying away before Castiel spoke.

"It's okay," he finally gave in, giving Dean a smile. "I forgive you."

Dean returned the smile, if not weakly. "Thanks, Cas... For everything."

"There is no need-" Castiel began before catching Dean's look and correcting himself. "You're welcome." He looked at Dean softly, now, a hint of concern in his deep blue eyes. "You can come to me with anything, Dean. You understand that, right?"

Dean squirmed under Castiel's intense gaze, awkwardly. He didn't think he could recall anybody ever telling him that. Dean wasn't used to someone caring  _so much_.

"Yeah, man," he replied lamely, taking a sip from his coffee and effectively burning his tongue. He tried not to flinch as the scorching liquid traveled down his throat and pooled in his stomach, making his still sensitive scar tingle uncomfortably.

"I'm serious," Castiel insisted, ducking his head as he tried to catch Dean's shifting gaze. "Do not be afraid to ask for help, or for someone to listen. I can tell there are plenty of people in your life who would gladly give you the time of day. And you  _do_ deserve it."

Dean's mug was paused halfway to his mouth, which hung open slightly as he gazed at Castiel. They looked at one another for a while before Dean was broken from his trance. He cleared his throat, and looked away from Castiel, settling his mug on his lap and nodding as he drew his lips in a line. He didn't reply- didn't murmur a thanks or anything of the sort.

In all honesty, he just didn't know what to say to that without screwing up. But he had a feeling his silence would just make things worse.

Castiel sighed, and Dean caught him looking at the clock. "I'm going to be late," he observed before peeling back Dean's sheets and swinging his legs over the bed.

"I can take you," Dean offered, standing up with Castiel. The librarian looked shocked.

"Are you sure?" he asked, observing Dean carefully.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, it's no problem," he insisted. "I'm not busy."

Castiel smiled at that. "Alright. I'll go get changed."

So Dean picked up his keys from where they had been dropped in the hallway last night, put them in his pocket, and waited in the living room. As he sat on a couch he took to reading through his phone notifications. He had seven missed calls, a voicemail, and ten text messages all from Sam. Letting out a deep sigh, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose as he braced himself to listen to what Sammy had to say. He decided on the voicemail, gathering it would sum all the messages up.

He didn't expect what he heard, though, when he finally pressed one and put the phone to his ear.

"Dean, if you're not going to answer, then I want you to at least listen to what I have to say. You don't even have to call me back. Just clear your head and  _listen_ to this before you do anything stupid.

"Look, man, I'm sorry about Lisa. Fuck, you know I am. I know you were in love for so long, and I'll never understand how much it must've hurt to lose her. But you're not alone in the pain you feel for her. She was my friend, too. We  _all_  loved her, and we  _all_  lost her. We all grieved. You didn't have to do yours alone. It all fucking sucks, it  _really_  does. But you can't go around blaming yourself! She wouldn't have wanted that- you  _know_ she wouldn't have. Stop hurting yourself and accusing yourself for things that were not under your control. God, Dean, you can't go around trying to take care of everything and everybody and then break down when something happens that you couldn't stop. It's  _not_ your responsibility. Nobody put it upon you to play God.

"What happened to Mom and Dad  _wasn't_  your fault, either. It was a fucking terrible,  _sadistic_  thing, but you were a  _kid_ , Dean. There wasn't anything you could've done, no matter what the hell you might tell yourself. You did what Dad told you to, and you saved us  _both_. That's freaking amazing in itself, and Mom and Dad would've been  _so_  proud.

"You're the strongest person I know. Hell, I don't know why it took me so long to say all this to you, but it's true. You're strong and selfless, and you've done so much for so many people. And with Lisa… I know you made her life complete, even if it ended too soon. She was happy, and her life  _wasn't_  tragic. You need to understand that. I need you to believe it.

"So many people care about you, Dean. The number of people you've lost are so small compared to the amount of people who love you, and are  _here_  for you. Just… just stop living in the past. Fall in love, again. Hang out with Charlie. Hell- come the fuck over to my house more, Jess and I fucking miss you constantly. Call Ellen and Jo- and Bobby, before he kicks your ass. Get in touch with Ash, again. Just, please,  _stop separating yourself from the world._

"And… well, I guess that's it. You don't have to even respond to all this, just let me know you at least heard me. You know we don't talk about this stuff, so I'd appreciate it if you not delete this message. Or completely ignore it. Just… consider it, alright?

"I'll talk to you later, man."

And then the phone clicked.

_To replay this message, press-_

Dean flipped his phone shut, letting it fall in his lap as gazed slackjawed ahead of him. He closed his mouth and composed himself, trying to digest everything he had just heard.

Shit.

Heaving a sigh, Dean reclined into the couch, pressing fingers into his closed eyes as he massaged the dryness out of them.

He didn't even hear Castiel step into the room.

"What's wrong?" The concerned voice inquired.

Dean snapped out of his reverie, looking up at the librarian, whose eyes were squinted as he observed the man in front of him.

"Uh, nothin', don't worry about it," Dean replied as he gave a smile, standing up. He pocketed his phone. "You ready to head out?"

Castiel inspected the teacher for a moment before suddenly smiling, looking reassured. "Yes, I am," he replied, slipping on his trench coat.

The drive was silent. Dean's head was a mess with internal conflict, and Castiel was respectfully silent, detecting that Dean had a lot on his mind. They didn't speak until Dean parked by the library. He turned to Castiel as the librarian thanked him, almost forgetting where he was and what he was doing.

Dean offered a weak smile and nod. "I- uh, I'll see you tonight, right?"

Castiel offered a soft smile, his blue eyes gazing at Dean in a way that made his stomach flip. "Yes," he replied. Before Dean could offer to pick him up, Castiel spoke, "I'll be here late- I'm going to take a bus back," he told him, gathering his things, now.

Dean nodded, feeling a tightness in his stomach. He felt like leaning over and kissing Castiel goodbye, but he didn't. They weren't together. He couldn't do that. Castiel wasn't  _his._

He held on tightly to the steering wheel, forcing himself to sit upright when he felt his body lean anyways, betraying him.

Castiel looked up, gazing into Dean's eyes, his gaze flicking down to his lips before ripping away with what looked like a lot of force. Castiel flushed a lovely shade of pink, detecting the want that Dean was trying to contain. "I'll see you soon," he replied, eyes flicking to Dean's lips once more before he swallowed and looked away, getting out of the car.

He left before Dean could even think to respond, and the blond let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding in, reclining back into his seat and bringing his hands up to cover his face. Sam's words suddenly came back to him.

_Fall in love, again._

It seemed, the teacher thought with a jump in his heart, that he had already gotten that part down. Dean was head over heels for Castiel, he realized that now. No amount of denying could make it any less true.

But Dean didn't  _want_ to be in love. They weren't meant to be. Love, in Dean's life, was dangerous. He just didn't think he could take another heartbreak. He didn't think he could demolish the walls he had put up.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

And… it wasn't going to. Dean could still stop this, whatever it may be, before it gets out of hand. He could still stop himself- the  _both of them_ \- from falling deeper. Castiel didn't deserve this- he didn't deserve Dean's shit.

Dean removed his hands from his face, gripping onto the steering wheel once more. He would talk to Castiel, tonight. He'd set the boundaries.

He would try not to let his wall break down.

* * *

Dean headed straight to Sam's house after taking Castiel to work- his mind boggling and his thoughts in a chaotic jumble. He didn't even know what he'd say when he got there. How could he ever come up with the words?

But, when faced with the front door to the quiet condo, Dean found that it all didn't matter. Sam would understand. He'd always understand. He was the only one that could see through Dean without picking him apart.

There was no reason to worry.

And Dean reminded himself of that as his finger pressed into the doorbell, then drew back. He sucked in a breath as the door opened, revealing his little brother.

Sam was still in his pajamas, and Dean almost forgot how early it was. He was about to apologize when Sam suddenly realized who was at the door, his eyes widening. He pulled Dean inside, and drew him into a hug. Dean returned it, shocked with the contact.

Sam's embrace was calming, and it chased away Dean's frantic thoughts. "I'm so glad you're okay," Sam spoke, not letting go. Dean felt a stab of guilt, remembering he hadn't talked to Sam in over a week.

He let out a laugh, although it was obviously forced. "Alright, alright, let go of me, y'overgrown moose," Dean teased. Sam let go, giving Dean an instinctive bitch face, although his eyes were still laced with worry. He closed the door behind them, and checked his watch.

"You want coffee?" Sam asked, already making to head over to the kitchen. Although he had already had some, Dean gave a nod that Sam smiled at.

Dean sat at the dining table, watching Sam as he worked about. The younger Winchester was quiet, giving Dean time to think about everything he wanted to say. Sam looked tired- his movements sluggish and his eyes underlined with bruise-like shadows. Dean felt guilty for bothering him so early in the morning, especially when he saw that the dining table was covered in papers and books and files. A laptop sat among the mess, the screen dark.

Averting his eyes, Dean looked down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. The dull ache of a hangover still pulsed in the side of his head, and he took some deep breaths, willing it to go away, along with the nausea that climbed up his throat. He supposed he probably looked just as bad as Sam, at the moment. Maybe he'd go back to his apartment and take a nap, after this….

Sam sat down at the table, offering Dean a mug full of coffee. It was one of the few things Sam could make perfectly- exactly how Dean always liked it. He accepted it, holding the cup in his cold hands and letting the warmth of coffee seep through to his fingers. The teacher hadn't even realized how freezing he was.

"You look like hell," Sam pointed out after a minute of silence. Dean smirked, looking up at his brother.

"So do you," he retaliated. He jerked his head towards the stacks of papers. "Late night?"

Sam screwed his mouth into a frown, nodding. "Yeah, I've got a shit ton to do. Didn't go to bed until four hours ago."

Dean bit his lip, feeling guilty once more. "I can leave if you-"

"No- no, I don't mind," Sammy reassured. "I want you here," he added when he saw that Dean was still unsure.

The blond nodded, looking back down. The two brothers fell silent once more.

"What happened?" Sam asked, seeming hesitant. Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat, quickly stealing a glance at his brother before looking away.

"Well, uh, the usual, I guess," he admitted, feeling his brother's disappointed look without even glancing up to confirm it. "I- well, except that this time I got… interrupted."

Sam was silent, and Dean looked up, now, gauging his reaction. The younger Winchester looked shocked, and he met Dean's eyes. "Cas?" he asked.

Dean nodded, shame coloring his cheeks a red hue as he looked down once more.

Sam sounded worried, now. "What was his reaction?" he asked.

Dean took a deep breath, setting his mug down on the table and running a hand through his mussed up hair. "Ah, well, he was upset. But he… helped me through it, I guess. He got me to stop drinking… dumped out the rest. Basically made sure I didn't poison myself," Dean attempted to joke.

Sam's face was serious, though. He looked concerned for his brother, and he leaned forward in his seat before he spoke. "Is he mad?" he asked.

Dean shook his head. "No- that's the thing. He's not. Like, not at all. He… well, he knows why I did it. I kinda told him everything while I was out of it. He… he just helped me out."

Sam looked relieved, but shocked at the same time. "Wow," he exclaimed.

"Yeah."

It was silent.

"I know you're not gonna like hearing this, Dean," Sam began, making his brother give him a wary gaze, "but I really… I think Cas is really good for you."

Dean ducked his head down. "I'm not letting him in like that, Sam," he protested. He looked up at his brother, who looked sad. "Nobody can fill that spot."

"Then make a new one," Sam retaliated. At Dean's exasperated look, he continued, "There's no such thing as running out of love, Dean," the younger Winchester explained. "There… there are so many opportunities. You've got your whole life ahead of you. And you've already spent most of it shutting people out. I think… I really think it's time you let someone into it. Whether you think you're ready, or not."

* * *

Dean had left his brother's house with his words constantly ringing in his ears. He went to his apartment and laid in bed, trying so hard not to roll over to the side Castiel had slept on, and inhale the pillow that emanated his alluring scent.

With all the thoughts rampaging in Dean's mind, it was almost impossible to find sleep. But, somehow, he had managed. He fell into a fitful slumber, having a strange stream of nightmares greet him in unconsciousness.

He had a dream that Sam and Jess didn't want anything to do with him, anymore- that they high tailed it out of Illinois and left him alone. He dreamt that all the people in his life, here and back in Lawrence, had pulled on either side of him, tugging and screaming until Dean was pulled apart, ripped to pieces.

He dreamt that he was in the car with Cas in the passenger seat, smiling at him. His eyes were a bright blue, gazing at Dean in a way… in a way Lisa had, once. He looked back at Cas, then suddenly Lisa had taken his place, smiling at Dean brightly.

"Lisa," he had whispered, in awe.

He reached out to touch her-

Then she was screaming his name, pointing in front of them.

A car crashed head on into theirs, and Dean was harshly flung about. He tried to yell out for Lisa, but he couldn't speak. When the aftermath cleared, Dean looked to the passenger side to see not Lisa, but Castiel sitting there, head bloodied and eyes lifeless, no longer a bright blue, but glazed over in a haunting manner.

When Dean woke up, he was freezing, but still sweating. His heart was racing, threatening to jump out of his mouth and pound out of his chest. He realized he had kicked his sheets off of him, and drew his arms around himself as he looked around his room. Darkness bathed the area, and Dean wondered how long he had slept.

He got up and padded instinctively to his closet, shedding himself of his clothes and slipping on some warmer material. His sweatpants instantly warmed his legs more than his jeans had, and after pulling on a long sleeved top he turned around and switched on his desk lamp. His alarm clock was sitting on the nightstand, and he grabbed it, facing it towards him so he could check the time.

It was eleven fifteen. Dean was shocked- he had slept the entire day away.

Movement and footsteps in the kitchen caught Dean's attention. He inclined his head towards the noise, curious. Could it be Cas? He normally went to sleep quite early, retiring as soon as he got back from the library.

Suddenly, Dean remembered that he had fallen asleep with the door open and the lights on. His door was now closed, and his room had been completely dark. Not to mention, the sheets had been drawn over Dean, when they had been off in a mess at the foot of his bed when he had laid down. Castiel had done that for him….

Sam's words echoed in Dean's head, and the teacher suddenly wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and avoid his problems.

But he needed to talk to Castiel. He needed to tell him how he felt, how he  _wanted_ to be with him, but-

Images of Dean's nightmare filled his mind. Castiel, bloody and dead in Dean's car.

He couldn't do that to Castiel. He couldn't drag him into the mess that his life was. Everyone Dean loved most suffered. He was poison, he couldn't let his toxicity reach Castiel, too. He needed to keep him safe. Safe from the harm that was sure to come.

So, with a great reluctance, Dean pushed away Sam's words as he left his room, squinting at the brighter light of the hallway. The movement in the kitchen was louder, now. He could hear grocery bags rustling and items being put away. When he walked into the room, Castiel automatically felt his presence.

"Good morning," he teased, turning around to give Dean a sly smile.

"Uh, hi," Dean replied, walking towards the librarian. "You need help?" he asked, gesturing towards the groceries. Castiel gave him a softer smile, now.

"Sure."

They worked in silence for a moment, and Dean took to observing the fortune teller. He was wearing a white dress shirt with a few of the top buttons popped open, and a tie as blue as his eyes hung loosened around his neck. Dean paused in his movements, feeling as though he were caught in a trance. He longed to forget about his nightmare- to ignore the voice in his head warning him of what would happen if he were to act on his wants. All he wanted was a normal life, and  _this_ \- it felt as though it would be the first step.

But there was a feeling of dread deep in his stomach. It was a dark, encompassing feeling that dragged Dean down into a muck of terrifying thoughts. He felt as though he could  _feel_ something bad watching for decision. He felt like this thing was just… waiting for him to make a final choice. To be with Castiel, or to be alone.

Perhaps being alone was safest? Of course it was- when you're alone, you can't possibly lose anyone. All you could lose is yourself. It was reassuring, not having to worry about someone. But… would that really be living? What was the point of living if Dean didn't experience the bad, and the good? Would that truly be a life he'd want to go through?

Being with Castiel would be like a dream. It was all Dean wanted. But he was afraid. He didn't know what giving himself to Castiel would bring- whether he'd be in store for more bad than good, or not. What they had with each other was platonic, if nothing else. He felt as though he could connect to Castiel so easily- almost as easily as he could connect to Sammy.

And that terrified him.

Dean knew what he had to do.

Right when he was about to speak, Castiel turned around, catching Dean gazing at him. His eyebrows knitted themselves together, and he gave Dean his full attention.

"What's the matter?" he asked, voice piquing in a way Dean had not heard it go, before. He seemed worried, curious, anxious.

"I… wanted to talk to you," Dean forced himself to say, swallowing back the lump in his throat as he averted his eyes.

He could still feel Castiel's gaze on him.

"What about?" the librarian asked.

"It's, well, about us. About, you know, what we have," Dean rambled, refusing to meet Castiel's eyes as he put some more things away. He knew that whether or not he looked at Cas wouldn't matter, the fortune teller would still always be able to tell what Dean's thinking. He'd always have the upper hand.

"Dean," Castiel breathed out, sounding weary.

Dean looked up, then, meeting blue eyes that seemed even brighter under the lights of the kitchen. He kept up the eye contact, knowing that it would be too late to look away, now.

"It's just that things are complicated," Dean spoke, wondering why it was so hard for him to say the freaking words. "And I- well, I don't wanna put you through that. It's… not fair," Dean went on, his confidence withering away as he struggled not to break eye contact- struggled to find the right words. "I just… I was wondering if everything- if we could just remain… I don't know-  _basic_ ," Dean bit out, feeling wrong for saying the words.

Castiel looked down, seeming to digest the information, and Dean felt a kick in his gut, his first thought being that he hoped he hadn't hurt the librarian. Instead, Dean thought he caught the smallest trace of a smile, but decided it was a trick of the lighting, because it was gone within a moment.

"So things will just be normal," Castiel replied in a drawl, eyes lifting to meet Dean's.

The teacher held his breath, giving a stiff nod. "Yeah."

"Just friends," the fortune teller clarified, raising innocent eyebrows.

Dean sighed in relief. "Yes- yeah, exactly- just friends."

Hands behind his back, Castiel shrugged indifferently. "Okay."

Dean eyed him suspiciously. "Okay?"

Castiel smiled now, returning to the task of putting away groceries. "Yes."

"You're… you're fine with that?" Dean asked, just to make sure.

Castiel tilted his head, endearing blue eyes gazing at Dean in that terrible curious puppy sort of way. "Of course," he replied. "Anything you wish."

Dean gave an unsure smile. "Thanks, man."

Castiel gave a nod, smile widening before he continued unpacking groceries, moving to Dean's side to organize the cupboard above him. They were both silent.

Dean sighed.

"Fuck it," he exclaimed, putting down the groceries he held in his hand.

He pulled Castiel in by the lapels of his fucking dress shirt and kissed him.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM ALIVE  
> Sorry for the wait, I took a much-needed hiatus after finishing "I'll Try to Change". But now I'm back :) thank you for the patience

A slight April chill was in the air, casting in through a cracked window. The light drawl of nighttime traffic spilled into the room, and the city lights were the only provided illumination.

Dean's lips placed a small kiss on Castiel's stomach, skimming upwards as he tuned in to the fortune teller's practiced breathing. His lips twitched into a smile as he felt the muscles of Castiel's abdomen flutter beneath him, his fists clenching tighter in the sheets from Dean's peripheral vision.

Castiel let out a low drawl of a hum as Dean gently flicked his tongue along Castiel's skin, making it to the hollow of his neck where he dipped in, then moved to the right and up along the firm, familiar structure of jaw. Castiel's lips parted as Dean sucked on that area, and he lifted his body up to connect with Dean's own bare one- the warm silky contact of skin-to-skin like pure euphoria.

It was one of those nights- one where the two men silently agreed to take things slow. They had all the time in the world, and Dean loved these moments with Castiel. He loved exploring the familiar and comforting grooves of Castiel's body- loved hearing the reassuring sound of his breathing and small noises of pleasure. It brought a sense of calm within Dean, and he normally took control of these nights, since Castiel would sooner or later grow impatient with the slow and teasing pace.

He could hear Castiel's breath grow ragged- could feel his heartbeat reverberating through their skin and into Dean's own chest. Dean smiled against Castiel's chin, where his lips were now exploring, brushing lightly against the edge of Castiel's lower lip. The librarian's lips parted expectantly, his tongue darting out to wet them as he waited for Dean's kiss.

Dean moved his lips, now, hovering them above Castiel's own, breathing in the warm slide of air that escaped from the mouth beneath him. He tasted like the toothpaste they shared- a subtle trace of spearmint, just like the time they kissed in the library storage room, ages ago. Castiel's eyes were darkened and lidded, and they gazed at Dean in a lazy yet needy way.

It was absolutely mesmerizing.

Giving a slight smile, Dean pulled away as Castiel moved up, resisting the urge to laugh at the librarian's irritated groan.

" _Dean_ , I swear-"

Dean kissed Castiel's nose, and he let himself laugh, now. "Frustrated?" he asked, moving to place his kiss right underneath Castiel's eye. Castiel lifted his hands up, and ran them through Dean's hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp and bringing out a content hum from the teacher's throat. He let Castiel's hands trail down to his face where he cupped his cheeks, even though Dean had set a rule for these nights that Castiel was not allowed to touch until Dean said he could. It was a rule Castiel hardly ever followed, since he had the patience of a child and the sex drive of a teenager.

Dean thought he had teased the librarian enough, though, and turned to kiss his palm, smiling into it as Castiel's thumb traced the bridge of Dean's nose, no doubt admiring the freckles that laid there- the ones that Dean insisted were unattractive and that Castiel adored endlessly. He turned to face Castiel, and his heart stuttered in his chest at the look on his face- the way he gazed at Dean as if he were the only thing that could ever matter to him.

Castiel smiled at his attention, and he ran a hand through Dean's hair, again, leaving one to cradle his face gently. Dean reached out his fingers to trace them along Castiel's eyebrow, his path moving low to circle around one blue eye and then lower, again, where his fingernails skimmed along Castiel's lower lip. Castiel placed a kiss on Dean's fingertips before he reached up, pulling Dean in gently for a deep kiss. Dean returned it, happily, and Castiel kissed him with so much want and need that Dean forgot to reprimand him for his lack of patience.

When they parted their lips Dean tried to catch his breath, his fingers on Castiel's chin, now, where they pressed into warm skin. Castiel took Dean's hand, and guided his fingers upwards towards wet lips, where he then proceeded to take one into his mouth, bringing it in deep and making Dean let out a sudden involuntary groan, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

Blue eyes looked up at the teacher as his tongue worked, and he took in another finger, now, humming around the digits and making Dean gasp. His semi-hard erection grew harder in merely a few seconds, and Dean suddenly forgot about going slow as he bucked his hips against the leg that rested between his thighs, making Castiel groan with satisfaction as he set himself at making Dean unravel.

It worked like a charm, and soon Dean was moaning Castiel's name, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. Castiel flipped Dean onto the bed, now, kissing his neck and pulling at the skin between his teeth, making Dean hiss with pleasure. Strong hands took grip of Dean's wrists, pinning them on either side of his head. Castiel smiled mischievously above the teacher, his eyes darkened by the night and his arousal, but still holding a gentle shade of blue. Dean tilted his head up, and Castiel followed the gesture, leaning down to plant a long kiss on Dean's lips, his hands sliding down Dean's arms and skimming back up to circle his wrists, once more.

Castiel stopped their kisses, suddenly, taking to planting soft grazes of his lips all over Dean's body. He went down his chest in a slow fashion, and Dean tilted his head back and closed his eyes, drinking in the sensation so he may never forget it. A tongue accompanied Castiel's gentle pecks, and it licked at Dean's left nipple, now, making Dean groan softly as his hips canted ever so slightly. If it weren't for Castiel's hold on his wrists, Dean would be running his fingers through Castiel's hair, urging him to go lower….

The librarian knew this, of course. But he continued to take things slow, shocking the teacher thoroughly. Lips removed themselves from Dean's nipple, and instead moved up, planting kisses up Dean's left arm and to his palm. Suddenly, the kisses stopped, and Dean instead felt a thumb run over his palm gently. His heart pulled, and Dean's eyes opened. He turned to see Castiel gazing at the scar on his hand, eyes gentle and a bit sad. Castiel looked over at Dean, and their eyes caught. It was silent for a moment.

"How did you get it?" Castiel asked, fingernails running up Dean's hand softly, urging his fingers to splay open when they tried to close in order to hide the defect. Dean swallowed, feeling as though a rock were lodged in his throat.

"When I was little. An accident. 'Got cut with glass," he murmured, telling at least half of the truth so that he wouldn't feel as though he were lying.

Castiel hummed softly, then leaned down, placing a kiss on the scar and letting go of both of Dean's hands, now, leaning over the blond man and kissing him gently. Dean lifted up a hand, the one Castiel had kissed so softly, and used it to cradle his cheek as they kissed. He ran his finger along the structure of Castiel's cheek, then moved his hand back and through soft, dark locks. He parted their lips, and looked into Castiel's eyes, propping himself up.

"Lie down," he whispered, urging Castiel to roll off him and lie into the sink of the mattress.

Once the librarian was comfortably beneath him, Dean ran his fingernails up his sides, scraping along Castiel's ribs gently in the way that he knew made him shiver. Dean did this for a moment, drinking in the small hums of pleasure Castiel let out, the way he stretched his arms above him as he always did, placing an arm over his eyes as he smiled. Dean adored all the small things Castiel did, the ways that he showed his pleasure.

Like, for instance, his arm would remove itself from his eyes when Dean moved upwards, towards the sensitive skin of his chest, circling and rubbing over hardened nipples. Castiel's eyelashes would flutter at that, and he'd either bite his lower lip, or flatten them into a line to swallow back his moans of pleasure which would raise in resonance.

Dean smiled at the color that presented itself in Castiel's cheeks as he turned his head to the side, stifling his pleasured noises and shy smile into the pillow. His neck was perfectly exposed, now, and Dean took advantage of that, moving up and placing a firm kiss on the sharp protrusions of Castiel's collarbones before moving up, letting his lips brush slightly against his skin as he did so. He kissed at Castiel's neck harder, now, sucking in the skin between his lips, biting and pulling in the way he knew Castiel loved.

After kissing the patch of skin red, Dean gave it a lick, smiling at Castiel's shocked gasp. Hands planted themselves onto Dean's back, fingers running up and down as the hips beneath him bucked upwards.

Dean kissed more along Castiel's neck before he suddenly looked up, a thought making itself present in his mind.

"When's your birthday?" he asked, catching Castiel by surprise.

Eyebrows furrowed as Castiel whipped his head to face Dean. His hair was incredibly mussed, and his eyes were lust filled, lips red from his biting into them. They were parted, now, as Castiel tried to catch his breath.

"What?" he gasped out, truly not having heard Dean's question. The teacher suppressed his urge to laugh.

"When's your birthday?" he asked, again.

A smirk lifted the corner of Castiel's lips. He was used to Dean asking random questions during sex, yet it never ceased to amuse him. "June twenty-eighth," he replied. He tilted his head, now. "When's yours?"

Dean laughed, now, remembering what he had done during his thirtieth birthday. "January twenty-fourth."

Castiel looked shocked, now. "We had known each other, then. Wait, weren't you in the h-"

"Yeah," Dean replied, feeling embarrassed, although he really had no reason to be. "I turned thirty," he suddenly revealed, hesitant. How old was Castiel? Was Dean older than him?

Fuck. What if Castiel was a lot younger than Dean thought?

Castiel smiled, though, and Dean felt himself calm down, if only a little bit. "I'm thirty-three. Going to be thirty-four," he replied.

Dean raised an eyebrow, a smirk taking place on his lips. "'You're four years older than me," he pointed out with a cheeky smile that had Castiel blushing a flattering shade of pink. The librarian laughed, though, seeming slightly flustered.

He reached a hand down, pulling Dean's face up to plant a kiss on his lips. Dean's eyes fell closed as he reciprocated the action. His mind went blank, momentarily, as he focused on the feel of Castiel against him. "Does that change… this?" Castiel asked, looking from Dean's lips to his eyes.

Dean shook his head before giving Castiel a solid, firm kiss. "Hell no," he murmured, moving back to kiss at Castiel's neck. "I've never dated someone older than me," he spoke against Castiel's skin, earning a moan when he licked at the love bite that was now formed on Castiel's neck. "It's kinda hot."

"Dean," Castiel snorted out, laughing. Dean smiled into Castiel's skin, trying to hold back the urge to laugh, as well, as he continued his kisses.

"'M being serious," he insisted, only earning more laughter. He moved down and took a nipple into his mouth, effectively cutting off the librarian's giggles.

"Fuck," Castiel whispered as Dean worked at his nipple, one hand working on the other and another hand reaching down to press his palm against Castiel's half-hard erection, massaging him to fullness.

Dean teased at Castiel's nipples until they turned an angry shade of pink, moving his mouth from one to the other until Castiel was begging him to continue with a chorus of choked moans dripping in pleasure.

Dean moved down, now, abandoning Castiel's nipples, and kissing down his stomach to his waiting cock. He kissed the purple head of it before he spoke.

"When I started college you were a senior," he mused to himself, making Castiel let out a frustrated groan.

" _Dean_ ," he warned.

Dean smirked, moving his hand up and down in a teasing fashion, making his fist loose around Castiel, teasing him. He looked up to meet the librarian's wanton gaze. "You would've been fucking a freshman," he whispered. "Gotta admit that's pretty hot."

A murmur that sounded suspiciously like a string of blasphemous curse words escaped from Castiel's lips before Dean finally took him in, bringing him in as deep as he could before pulling up, tongue swirling around the head and fist moving hard against the slick flesh. Castiel ran his fingers through Dean's hair, urging him on with multiple praises.

When Dean suddenly pulled off, Castiel let out a wrecked moan, silenced when Dean reached up to kiss him, hard. Castiel returned it desperately, leaning in every time Dean pulled away- it was almost as if Dean would disappear any moment, like Castiel was working to ground him. The thought made something twist in Dean's gut, and he kissed Castiel harder, now, in all the ways he knew the librarian loved.

Castiel was letting out incoherent noises at the play of Dean's tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth against the sensitive flesh of his lips. Dean swallowed Castiel's mewls, licking at his swollen lips before he pulled away. Castiel's hands gripped tight onto Dean's arms in warning. Blue eyes were black with pupils, raven hair sticking about in ungodly directions. The blond raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"You wanna top?" he asked, voice barely there.

Castiel obliged.

* * *

The next morning, a Sunday, brought waking up at six to get ready to jog, despite the fact that Castiel and Dean had been up a good portion of the night fucking senselessly. Dean refused until Castiel all but dragged him out of bed, promising coffee and breakfast before the jog, for once. That motivated Dean, slightly.

"Your schedule is gonna kill me," he murmured as he padded into the kitchen, drawing on a t-shirt before looking down at it and realizing it wasn't his. He shrugged, then found his t-shirt clad on Castiel, who was currently in nothing but said shirt and a pair of boxers, which were also Dean's. Dean supposed that under his pajama pants, he was more than likely wearing Castiel's own boxers without knowing.

Since they started officially dating they'd had a considerable number of… incidents, such as this. Dean hardly wore his own clothes, anymore- especially after sex. He just put on whatever he could find.

They practically shared rooms, now. The two hadn't slept alone since day one, thus the result of plenty wardrobe and other item mixups. It even affected their work. Once, Dean accidently took one of Castiel's folders that looked like his own. Needless to say, his students were thrilled when they didn't get their quizzes that day, and Castiel got behind on paperwork.

Castiel was currently making bacon and eggs, and Dean's stomach rumbled at the smell of it. The librarian only laughed, though.

"You've been doing great on our jogs," Castiel insisted, glancing at Dean and giving him a smile. "We've kept a good consistency with our schedule."

"It's six a.m., Cas," Dean replied bluntly.

Castiel raised the volume of the crappy box radio Dean had put in the kitchen, glancing back to give Dean a big smile before he continued cooking.

Damn. Well, two could play at that game.

Dean came up behind Castiel, sliding his arms around his waist, fingertips resting at the waistband of Castiel's boxers. The librarian visibly paused in his movements, for a moment, but he continued, if not distractedly. Dean planted a kiss into the side of Castiel's neck before speaking in his ear.

"Let's just stay in bed, today," he suggested, fingers sliding into Castiel's boxers, now. He massaged the sensitive skin below Castiel's hips, resisting the urge to smile into Castiel's neck when he could feel the librarian's weight lean back, slightly, into Dean's chest. His fingers slid down further, scraping gently through wiry hair before his right hand wrapped around Castiel's member. The librarian's breath caught quietly, but Dean could hear it. He smiled when he realized that Castiel was already getting hard in Dean's hand, before he even started moving his fingers. "Let me take care of you," he whispered, almost sounding like a plead. Castiel nodded once, eyes looking straight down at what Dean was doing to him.

He adjusted Castiel, stroking his fist loosely up and down, in an incredibly slow fashion that he knew drove Castiel crazy. Castiel's breathing was more labored, now, and Dean looked to further that, kissing at Castiel's neck, licking and sucking up to his jaw, giving him more love bites to match his others. He traced up Castiel's jaw, now, and kissed at his earlobe. He took the skin between his teeth, tugging gently and just barely catching the slight grunt Castiel let out before his mouth closed shut. Dean smiled before he spoke.

"Let it out, Cas," he growled, planting kisses everywhere he could reach as he sped his hand up just slightly. His left hand reached down and palmed at Castiel's balls, earning a gentle gasp from the librarian as he turned his head to the side, looking up at Dean, then down at his lips.

Their lips met messily and desperately, Castiel's left hand grasping on tight to Dean's wrist, fingers rubbing at him as if to urge him on. Dean obliged, his fingers working faster at Castiel, and now he was completely hard (and, hell, Dean was, too), canting into Dean's hands, molding into him in a way that they always did.

Then, suddenly, Castiel grasped Dean's wrists, stilling him. He eased Dean's hands off of him, his breathing uneven as he did so.

"'Going to burn the food," Castiel managed to speak, his voice shaky, and Dean felt a sense of accomplishment at making the librarian lose his composure in only a few minutes.

But now he was hard, too, and he wanted to continue. He didn't even care if they had to go jogging afterwards.

After Cas turned the stove off, Dean caught his wrist, pulling him close and turning Castiel around. Their lips met and Dean took his time with this kiss, a hand flying up to cradle Castiel's cheek, his fingertips digging into dark locks. Castiel hummed against Dean's lips and gave him one more kiss before pulling away with a laugh.

"Fuck you," he spoke among barely-contained laughter, and Dean was smiling big, now, leaning forward and closing the space between them. He kissed Castiel once. Twice.

"Yes, fuck me," he replied, hand sliding down where it rested on Castiel's ass, pulling him in.

Castiel shook his head, although a smile still played at his lips. "No, Dean, we're still going on a jog," Castiel insisted.

Dean raised an eyebrow, almost believing Castiel was joking. But he knew the librarian. He knew how persistent he was about jogging every morning. It was habit for him. Almost as addictive as nicotine to a smoker. And when Dean had "persuaded" him to stay in bed last weekend, the librarian had done so, then felt so bad about not jogging in the morning that they went on a five mile trek later on that day. In the freezing cold. At night. The morning sex was worth it, though. But only barely.

Needless to say, Dean had learned his lesson.

"Okay, fine, but I'm taking your sweatpants. The warm ones," Dean replied, pulling away after giving Castiel one more kiss. As he walked out the kitchen, he could practically feel the goofy smile that was no doubt plastered onto Castiel's face.

"In the closet, towards the back," Castiel informed him. Dean gave an overplayed grunt in response, earning laughter in return.

When he got to Castiel's walk-in closet, he flipped the lights on within it. He had only been in it a few times, before, and that was usually just to look for a missing t-shirt or to put away some of Castiel's laundry. He'd never been in there for more than a few moments.

That was why he never noticed the pile of items in one corner, covered by a messy white sheet.

Curiosity overtaking him, and sweatpants forgotten, Dean walked over to the messy stack of things, taking to gazing at them closer. He could make out a rectangular shape, then a few bulky and indecipherable figures next to it. A heavy scent overcame him the closer he moved towards the items- it smelled like a musky nature-based scent… like the art classroom in the high school, but in a far more unknown way. He soon realized the scent lightly filled Castiel's closet. He wouldn't have known, had he not been focused on it so much.

Unable to take his curiosity, and feeling a little sheepish towards being so nosy, Dean sat down and pried the sheet off, setting it aside.

The first things he noticed were the canvases. They were big, and brilliant splashes of color covered their wood-braced backs in random accidental smears. The canvases' fronts were facing the wall, and Dean found himself looking away, feeling as though he were intruding. His eyes landed on glass mason jars filled with paintbrushes. They were spotted with muddied colors of dried paint and revealed years of use- their wooden handles were smeared in what could only be paint-covered fingerprints, along with other bits of paint that probably couldn't be washed off. The bristles were dyed dark hues of blues and blacks and browns from their countless uses, yet they were still in good conditioned, obviously having been taken care of very well when they were used, despite the bite marks that indented their shafts.

Next to the jars stood a black studio bag. Dean didn't look inside it for fear of being further intrusive, but he could see what looked like a notebook of wax paper stained with oils and paints. A pallette accompanied the notebook, and in the smaller pockets in the front of the bag, Dean could see white plastic tools, of which he had not the faintest idea of their uses, but figured they were for something paint-based, counting on the colors that stained those, as well. A few pencils sat in the smaller pockets, their points blunt and the thin wooden structure also messy with paint.

Dean reached out hesitantly to the canvases, now, flipping one over and observing the painting on it. It was a painting of a man. Strokes of different colors made up the flesh- blues, pinks, greens, reds, oranges, all sorts of colors that Dean would have never thought of using for a person. It was a side view of a bare body, bent forward. The figure looked especially familiar, and Dean pondered over it before he realized it was Castiel's body. He recognized the familiar form of a runner's physique- the slender muscles of his arms and contour of his torso.

Did Castiel paint himself? Or did someone paint this for him?

No… Castiel painted it. Dean was sure of it. He could tell, somehow.

"Need help?" Castiel's voice called as he entered the room, humor lacing his tone. He came into the closet, then paused in his motions. Dean turned to look at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you paint?" he asked, completely forgetting that he had been snooping through Castiel's things, and should probably be embarrassed.

The librarian's mouth was hung open in shock, and he closed it, taking an involuntary step back before composing himself.

"Because… well, I don't. Uh, anymore," Castiel murmured, looking down and away, hand braced on the frame of the doorway. Dean's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why not? You're amazing," Dean replied, taking to looking back at the painting, fingers brushing over the rise and fall of thick paint. He traced the brushstrokes gently. "You're really talented."

When Castiel didn't respond, Dean looked back up at him. The librarian was still avoiding his gaze. "No, I… I don't think so," he answered. Detecting Dean's gaze, he glanced up at him quickly before looking away, drawing his lips into a line and shrugging a shoulder heavily.

Dean was confused, now. He'd never seen Castiel so unconfident- so  _shy_. "But you are," he insisted. "Honestly, you are," he added when Castiel was about to protest. He got up, now, setting the painting down gently and taking Castiel's hands. "Why don't you think so?" he asked.

Castiel shrugged again and gave a smile, although it didn't reach his eyes. "I mean, well, I had looked to make a career of it. It's a good thing I didn't," he admitted, looking at Dean and giving a light laugh, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Someone helped me realize it was just a ridiculous hobby."

Dean only grew more confused. "Why would you believe them?"

When Castiel didn't respond, Dean went over to the other paintings. There were what looked to be a dozen canvases. Dean picked up another one. It was of a neck and upper torso, twisted in a way that showed the highlights and shadows of the muscles there. "This is anything but a dumb hobby," Dean told him, smiling at the painting and then back up at Castiel. "This is real talent."

Castiel smiled sadly, but he didn't reply.

So Dean spoke up, again.

Struck with inspiration, he raised an eyebrow. "Paint something," he suggested, looking through the canvases and finding a blank one. He lifted it, bringing it to a stunned-looking Castiel.

Castiel's jaw had dropped, and he took another step back, shaking his head. "I haven't painted in years," Castiel babbled. "I-I'm not ready, I don't even know if I could."

"Just try," Dean begged, now. "Please, Cas."

The librarian gazed at the blank canvas, eyebrows furrowed and eyes lost. "I don't even know what I'd paint," he whispered, looking up at Dean as though he were a crazy person. "I can't just bring up inspiration."

"Paint whatever the fuck you want," Dean pressed on, giving Castiel a big smile. "It doesn't matter- paint a fucking giraffe if you want, it would still be amazing. Just one thing, and I promise I'll never bring it up, again."

Castiel took the canvas from Dean's hands, hesitantly. He ran a hand over the rough material of it. Dean was entranced with the look in Castiel's eyes- the gentle glide of his fingers over the potential of the blank material in his hands.

Suddenly, Castiel looked up.

"I want to paint you," he spoke up, eyes filled with inspiration, now.

And now Dean wished he hadn't said anything.

He could feel warmth trickle up his neck. "Uh-  _me_?" he asked, shocked as he took a step back.

Castiel was smiling sheepishly, now. "I like painting people. I… well, I never had anybody to pose for me, so I'd paint myself. But," he shrugged, now, looking dismayed. "Nevermind- you don't have to."

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat. "No- it's fine, you can. I just, uh, what do you want me to do?" Dean inquired, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

But if it would make Castiel happy, he'd do anything.

* * *

Dean began to regret his decision as he laid on his side on Castiel's bed, facing the easel Castiel had set up. He was naked, mind the sheet of Castiel's bed draped haphazardly over his groin. The whole stripping process hadn't been the problem, though. It had been the best part of this entire thing. Castiel had slowly taken off Dean's clothes for him, and that had resulted in the best make-out session they ever had.

But now Dean was lying down, sexually frustrated and irritatingly alone, on the way-too-big bed. Castiel even had him position himself in a "naked lady portrait", Renaissance-esque manner. It was a cheesy pose, and to alleviate the sheer humiliation of it all, Dean took to making jokes.

"Paint me like one of your French girls," he spoke in a purposely husky-tone, making Castiel laugh so hard he had to pause as he adjusted his easel and set up his paints.

"Shut up, Dean," he ordered, lips stretched into a smile. Dean only puckered his lips, giving Castiel an overplayed air kiss.

At that, Castiel had to look away as he held in his laughter. "You can't move, by the way," he scolded, starting to squirt some paints onto his palette. "Stay absolutely still," he spoke as he concentrated, his voice a slow drawl. Dean shivered at the intensity of it.

Light flowed into the room, warming Dean's skin, despite the bitter cold of the air. Castiel stood in a complete trance, eyes glued to his canvas as his arm traced wide, gestural strokes. Dean immediately relaxed, his body loosening up and sinking naturally into the sheets and pillow and mattress. He kept completely still, but after thirty minutes of watching Castiel's calming movements he couldn't help but fall into a sleepy haze.

His eyelids began to droop, and when Castiel didn't comment on it, Dean decided it was alright to rest his eyes for a few minutes….

When he woke, it was to a hand on his side. Dean stirred, lifting his head from where it had been propped on his palm. The skin of his hand stuck slightly to his cheek as he separated them, and he stretched his wrist, letting out a groan of pain from the stiffness in it. His neck had a crick in it, and he sat up, trying to recollect his thoughts.

The hand on his side drifted to his chest and eased him back down onto the bed. Dean submitted, reclining into the mattress beneath him, and letting himself take in the sight of blue eyes and a paint smudged face. Dean smiled, letting Castiel lean in to kiss him. That kiss turned into many more as Castiel molded into Dean, enveloping him in warmness.

When they parted for a moment, Dean spoke.

"How long've I been asleep?" he asked, taking in their surroundings. The light of the room had shifted into an afternoon glow.

"A little while," Castiel replied, smiling. "It's okay, though."

Dean groaned, stretching his arms up and popping his shoulders. Castiel kissed down his chest, over his heart.

"Did you finish painting?" he asked, hand drifting to Castiel's back, where it settled. He made small circulations with his fingers.

Castiel hummed into Dean's chest before reaching up and giving him a kiss. "Yes," he replied, going back for another kiss. Dean's other hand went up, instinctively settling on Castiel's cheek, fingers digging into his hair.

When they parted again, Dean smiled at the hues of color that smudged Castiel's cheek. He ran his finger over a wipe of purple, showing Castiel the paint that now coated his finger.

"You were in the zone," he pointed out. "Sorry I fell asleep."

Castiel nuzzled his nose into Dean's cheek, kissing under his ear. "It's alright. I painted your face before you did."

Dean was curious, now. "Can I see it?" he asked. Castiel kissed him.

"Mm, later," he whispered, kissing back down Dean's chest.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to jog?" he replied, almost afraid to bring it up.

Castiel shook his head. "Not today. 'Nother time."

Dean managed to let out a laugh. "Am I talking to Castiel Novak, right now?"

He could feel the librarian smile against his chest. "Oh, don't worry. We can do a five mile, tomorrow."

Before Dean could protest, Castiel took a nipple into his mouth, making Dean groan out in surprise.

" _Cas_ ," he moaned, hand flying up to tug at Castiel's hair. "Shit."

Castiel's hands ran up, grasping onto Dean's shoulders as he teased at Dean's nipple. Dean was getting hard under the sheet that still covered him, and he brought Castiel up, shedding off his shirt.

"If we're running five miles at six in the morning, then I'm gonna expect shower sex after," Dean bargained, "and breakfast, since that didn't really work out, today."

The librarian smiled, reaching down to kiss Dean before he spoke. "Naturally," he replied.

Castiel covered Dean in faded smudges of paint, using his skin as canvas.

* * *

The painting was beautiful.

It was lifelike, yet surreal. Dean's figure looked animated, and there was an array of color that Dean never would have thought of using. Castiel stuck to a golden palette of color for Dean's skin and hair, and the light that leaked onto him from the windows. For the parts of the bedroom that wasn't touched by the light, there were purples and blues and faded greens.

The texture was fantastic, ridges along the edges of furniture and walls, and smooth curves along the contour of the sheets and Dean's form. It beckoned forward whoever looked at it, making one want to explore the strokes and the patterns that covered the canvas.

Dean resisted the urge to run his fingers along the painting, since Castiel warned him it would be wet for a few weeks. Instead, he spoke.

"It's amazing," he whispered, turning to face Castiel. "You're so talented, Cas."

The librarian reddened at Dean's compliments, trying to contain a smile. "You overestimate my abilities."

Dean shook his head. "No way. You… you could do this for a  _living_ ," he exclaimed, turning back to look at the painting. "It's incredible. I just- I feel like I want to reach out and touch it and stare at it until I've memorized every bit."

Castiel smiled, now. "It's for you," he revealed.

Dean looked at Castiel, incredulously. "What? Really? I- you're giving to to me?"

The librarian nodded. "Once it's dry, yes."

A smile stretched Dean's lips, and he brought Castiel in, hand at the back of his neck. He kissed him once. Twice. "I love it," he replied, honestly. "You're amazing."

Castiel laughed, although he looked as though he were trying to contain it. "If you say so," he replied.

Dean pulled away, looking into Castiel's eyes, now. "I'm serious. You're… it's unbelievable, how amazing you are. He glanced at the closet, which was still ajar. The paintings stood out within. "You could sell those."

Castiel raised an eyebrow, glancing at the closet. He looked back at Dean, and laughed. "No, I couldn't."

"I'm being honest," Dean insisted. "Instead of letting them gather dust, you could sell them. You should start painting again, and we could go to the park- the one we jog at," he continued, getting excited, now, "and set up a stand there and just sell paintings. That lady, Mrs. Berring, she does it all the time with her jewelry. You don't even have to sell it- we could just hang out there and you can paint-"

Castiel shook his head, again, backing away. "I'd really rather not," he persisted. "Now let's leave it at that," he concluded. When Dean tried to protest, he interrupted him, "We need to get ready to visit Sam and Jess."

Then Castiel was off to the shower and Dean was left standing alone.

* * *

The drive to Sam and Jess's place was quiet and awkward. Dean was angry at Castiel, and he refused to speak more than a word or two when talking to the librarian. Castiel could definitely sense Dean's anger, but he made no effort to alleviate it in any way.

When they arrived at Sam's house, they put on a happy facade (one that Sam easily saw through, but made no comment about until he and Dean were alone).

"Is everything alright?" the younger Winchester pried, leaning in towards his brother as Jess led Castiel to the kitchen where he could put the food they had brought. Dean swatted a hand dismissively, as if trying to physically shoo away his brother's worries.

"Nothing, we're fine. Just a small argument. It's not really important."

Sam screwed his lips into a frown, but nodded. He didn't bring it up, again, and the two walked to the dining room where Dean helped prepare the last of the dining utensils.

Dean watched Castiel as he talked with Jess in the kitchen. He looked so happy- like he hadn't been butting heads with Dean since morning.

He was a good actor.

Jess talked to Castiel about the wedding, informing him of new changes they were making and taking his advice on certain aspects. They chatted as Castiel helped her take the food to the table.

Ever since they invited Castiel to the wedding two weeks ago, Jess and Cas had grown close. Sam's bond with the librarian had grown, too, and he constantly expressed his approval whenever he talked to Dean.

That's why, right now, he was worried for his older brother. Dean gave him a reassuring smile before Jess and Cas walked into the dining room.

They ate with a mostly content atmosphere. The focus of the conversation was mainly on the wedding, and luckily didn't stray too much to how Dean and Castiel were. The teacher was thoroughly grateful for that, and it seemed Cas was, too. After dinner, they sat in the living room and drank some wine. Dean restrained himself, since he had to drive, but allowed himself one glass so he could unwind, somewhat. He found himself wanting to lean into Castiel and ease up a bit, but his stubborn nature refused, and he subtly gave his boyfriend the cold shoulder. There was a foot of space between them, and Dean turned down any conversation that Castiel tried to start with him by answering blandly.

Apparently, it wasn't too subtle.

Dean caught Jess's worried looks, and the glances she and Sam would share. The teacher knew he should've been embarrassed for being so obvious, but he was too angry to care.

When they finally drove home at midnight, it was silent. Then Castiel spoke.

"That was incredibly childish," he stated, arms crossed as he gazed out the windshield.

Dean clenched his jaw, as he often did when he was irritated. He forced himself to take a breath before he spoke. "Well pardon me for not pretending everything is fine and dandy."

"And pardon me for thinking you'd respect my privacy like an adult."

"Maybe I'd  _respect your privacy_ if you didn't keep so many damn things private!" Dean exclaimed, unable to help himself as he looked at Castiel to give him a hard glare before returning his eyes to the road. "Honestly, you know so much about me and I know so damn little about you. What the hell is that even about?"

Castiel was silent. He did not reply. Dean snorted.

"Typical," he muttered. "Can't even give me honest answers. You know, for a guy who's so intent on learning everything about someone, you're not good at opening up, yourself. It's not a one way thing, Castiel."

The silence resumed. Rain started to pour, and Dean flicked on the windshield wipers with an annoyed motion of his fingers, trying so hard to concentrate on the road and calm his anger.

It was a moment before Castiel replied.

"It's best you know as little about me as possible," he finally answered.

Dean looked over incredulously at the librarian. " _Really?_  Is that all you can come up with?" he mocked. When Castiel was once more silent, Dean continued, " _Everybody_ has shit in their lives, Cas. You know what they do? They  _talk_ about it. To people they care about. Like normal freaking humans. And this…  _thing_  you're doing- the whole blocking yourself off act- just makes me think that maybe-" Dean cut himself off, biting his lip. Castiel looked over at him, his eyes careful, now.

"Maybe what?" he spoke, voice thin.

Dean bit his tongue and clenched his jaw, trying to keep the words in.

He couldn't.

"Maybe you don't care about me like I do for you," he spoke, trying not to let his voice shake.

Castiel didn't reply. He simply turned his head back to look out the window, his body posture tense.

Dean took it like a knife in his back.

That was answer enough. They didn't talk for the rest of the drive.

That night, they slept in separate beds.


End file.
